


Questions of Convenience

by Septum5empra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 16:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 94,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septum5empra/pseuds/Septum5empra
Summary: She thought she might prefer that side of Malfoy to the newest one, the dangerous one that made her pulse race. It wasn't the same as his younger years, getting upset when Harry bested him in quidditch, or when Hermione's accomplishments overshadowed his own, or when someone failed to laugh at one of his jokes. It was something she only saw now when he stood close to her. Way too close.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing besides an over-active imagination.
> 
> Hello! Welcome to my first fanfiction. Here's a bit of info on the story and the direction I will be taking.  
> We join our Golden Girl Hermione Granger 2 years after the end of the Second Wizarding War. This story will ignore the DH Epilogue, but that's all. All character deaths and relationships throughout the books remain the same. No Ron-Bashing in this Dramione. Some of you love it, others hate it. I am personally indifferent as long as the writing is well done, but I digress. I've rating this story M for some smut in later chapters. If you want to read all the way through a story, but don't like smut, this won't be a story for you. The first of the chapters I will be writing and updating quickly, but please don't come to expect a chapter every day. I, unlike our characters, and not a Witch or Wizard, I simply happen to have several days off work right now lol. After my initial group of chapters I will do my best to update with a need chapter weekly, but reserve the right to have a life. I think that's all for now. If I have anything interesting or relevant to say about the chapters I will include an A/N. Feel free to send me any questions or feedback and ENJOY!

Hunting Hermione

Convenient. Fitting in well with a person's needs, activities, and plans. Convenient. Involving little trouble or effort. Convenient. Occurring in a place or time that is useful. Godric! She was going to hex the next person she heard refer to something as convenient!

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger!" the young raven-haired witch screeched while scurrying across the marble stone floors of the Ministry. Her too-high heels clicking incessantly as Hermione attempted to outmaneuver her new boisterous shadow for the third time that day. Merlin! Hermione had nothing personal against this witch, she almost applauded her persistence, but she needed to learn. Hermione and the press did not go well together. She knew that hiding from reporters was far from courageous. But the last time she confronted these questions head-on, Ginny had to intervene and drag Hermione away before she assaulted the woman. The incident was front-page news for The Daily Prophet the next morning and seemed to only fan the flames of desire to interview her.

As she bobbed and weaved her way through the next wave of people coming in off the lifts, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she could use some lessons in dealing with the press, without resulting to brash Gryffindor-ish confrontations. Perhapse she should do some research to see if there was anything she might be able to use as leverage to 'persuade" the witch to leave her be. Hermione hid a smirk, wondering if this reporter, like her mentor Rita Skeeter, was an Animagus, but quickly shook the idea from her mind. Seeking refuge behind the nearest available column, she scolded herself for the feeling of satisfaction the image of Skeeter in her jar triggered within her. But Skeeter did have that one coming. Drawing a deep breath, she listened to the witch's voice and the click click clicking of her heels move away from her hiding spot, and she allowed her shoulders to slump somewhat against the column, the coolness of it calming her nerves and helping to slow her racing heartbeat. This was not her week. She hoped that she could immerse herself in her work. A schedule of early mornings and long nights in her office keeping the vultures at bay, but a girl needed to eat! She even started taking her breaks at odd times, hoping to evade reporters and photographers, but that witch seemed to have no life outside of trying to invade Hermione's.

Although pleased with her successful escape, Hermione still couldn't muster a genuine smile. She started practicing in the mirror at home when Ginny wasn't around; trying on different smiles like Ginny tried on shoes. People in her office had taken notice, not that they didn't understand, she was going through a breakup. The head of her department was seemed sincerely sympathetic upon hearing the news, despite however misguided...

**3 DAYS PRIOR:**

"Oh Hermione dear, "the old witch tutted, "What are you doing here today? I've just found out. That Ron is a fool! But deary, you go on home. Take some time for yourself. You look dreadful. The work will be here when you get back." Hermione had insisted she was fine. Insisted she could work. Needed to work, but this witch would understand none of it. Evidently, she had picked up the same ridiculous version of the story as everyone else she had intended on avoiding today. Truly, can't people mind their own business, Hermione thought. She knew the work would still be there, who else was going to work faithfully to legitimize S.P.E.W. in the eyes of the wizarding world?! She needed somewhere to be. Needed to immerse herself in the comforting routine she had created. What would she do at home with time off? There was no routine at home, not anymore anyway. She had no desire to go home to an empty flat. Hermione conceded to taking the day off after she was able to get her current research and proposals in order in her office. She would take them home and work on them there. HA! Take that! As she muttered a quick thank you to her boss and headed to her office, she thanked Merlin it was Friday. That meant Ginny would be home early tonight. She arrived at her office and was greeted with an impressive looking owl stoically waiting for her. She gingerly untied the rolled parchment from the owl's leg and went to hand it a treat. The owl neither accepted nor moved an inch. She wasn't sure the owl even breathed. Apparently, the sender expected a reply.

 

> _Granger,_
> 
> _We need to talk._
> 
> _D.M._

Hermione glared at the words on the parchment, written in a beautifully elegant scroll, but they refused to sink in. She was sure she had been standing like this for 10 minutes, having read the same words 50 or more times before there was a knock on her door.

"Miss Granger! As soon as it's convenient, will you come by my office before you leave?"

Convenient. HA!

Hermione pushed the memory away as she removed her body from the column, straightening her back. "Head up, chin up, woman!" she told herself. "Are you or are you not a Gryffindor?! Act like one!" She peaked her head around the column, scanning the crowd for reporters. She still didn't feel very Gryffindorish, despite her internal pep-talk. As she made her way around the column and to the lifts, something registered in her peripheral. Her heart began racing once more. Something that stark white could only have been the flash of a bulb or, or…She silenced her wondering mind, convincing herself that the raven-haired stalker and her photographer must have found someone else's life to ruin today. Finally! She continued her path to the lifts, mentally running through her agenda for the rest of the workday. She found the organization and repetition of it calming. As she was getting ready to step onto the lift, she found her path blocked by the imposing, yet kind face of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Miss Granger!" he chimed, surprised. "Kinsl-Er- Minister Shacklebolt," Hermione replied, stuttering over the formality. "I'm sorry sir," she immediately apologized, "I'm having an off day."

Shacklebolt chuckled, leaning down and lowing the register of his voice so as not to be heard by those around them. "Hermione, it's quite alright. I know it's best to keep with the awkward formalities here at work, but there's no need to look so glum." He straightened back up, his voice returning to its usual volume, "Ahem, yes, Miss Granger. Just the witch I was looking for, how convenient I run into you…"

Merlin! Hermione was going to have to Conveniently hex the Minister of Magic!


	2. Golden Girl is Golden Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing besides an over-active imagination.  
> I'm sure you all would love to read an epic battle scene between Hermione and Kingsley, buuuut, you're not gonna lol. In this chapter we are going to get some backstory on our characters, so it is a good deal longer. I know this stuff isn't the most exciting, but I feel it's important to understand a bit about how Hermione got to this point. It won't explain everything, what would be the fun in that?! But It will set the stage nicely for the remainder of our story. Enjoy!

Earlier that Morning:

_THE ENGAGEMENT IS OFF_

_By Chelsea Corningwood_

_It pains me, dear readers, to report that the engagement between two of the wizarding world's most beloved heroes has ended. Ronald Weasley was seen at last nights annual Auror's Ball with a beauty on his arm; a beauty who was NOT his fiancé Hermione Granger, but a former girlfriend, Lavender Brown!_

_Well, this reporter could not stand by without questioning Mr. Weasley's loyalty to his lovely fiancé! When questioned, Weasley was pleasant, stating, "No, Hermione and I are no longer together, though we remain close friends." No reason was given as to the cause of the sudden breakup although it appears that Mr. Weasley is handling it well. Miss Brown and he were observed talking closely, sharing secret smiles across the floor, and dancing dangerously close throughout the event."_

_Harry Potter and fiance Ginerva Weasley also attended the ball, but declined to comment on their friends' relationship, or lack of. Hermione Granger has so far declined all Prophet Owls and Floo Calls, but this reporter is dedicated to bringing you HER side of the story._

_What happened to break two-thirds of the Golden Trio apart?_

_Was Ron Weasley unfaithful? Did Lavender Brown play a part in their demise? Or is Hermione Granger not the 'Golden Girl' we all thought her to be?_

_More to come._

Hermione shook her head as she laid the morning's issue of The Daily Prophet on her kitchen counter. Sipping her tea, she observed as Ginny snatched up the paper and began reading the article. Hermione examined her red-headed girlfriend over the top of her teacup. She tried to never take advantage of her friendship with the youngest Weasley. While they had been particularly close for years now, she had been wary of her reaction when she and Ron ended their engagement. Hermione knew that the entire Weasley clan thought of her as a part of the family, but, she doubted they would understand the reasons for the break-up. And if they didn't understand, it would have been natural for them to place the blame on Hermione, rather than one of their own. While she loved each one of the Weasley's, Ginny's friendship was the one she had been most fearful of losing. While the Golden Trio's tight-knit friendship was well known, not everyone realized how close Ginny and Hermione were.

"Well, you expected worse, right?" Ginny questioned, eyeing Hermione as she drank her tea in long, deliberate sips. Her toast remained untouched on the plate in front of her. The two friends had, in fact, expected worse. The duo had prepared for the inevitable headlines the night before the Ball. Alcohol was involved and the witches soon learned that their love of alliteration grew the more Firewhiskey they consumed. Hermione's favorite headline of the evening was "GOLDEN GIRL IS GOLDEN GONE!"

The whoosh of the fireplace filled the room as Ron and Harry stepped through and into the kitchen.

"Read it yet?" Harry asked before walking around the counter, snaking an arm around Ginny and planting a tender kiss on her lips. Ginny blushed and bit her lip as she wrapped her arms around him in return. Ron sat down next to Hermione, immediately moving her plate in front of him and biting into the now cold toast.

"Tha new r'porter didn muck things up as bad as we feared, huh Mione?"

"Ronald, please! You're spitting toast crumbs all over the place," Hermione sighed as she leaned her shoulder into his. Ron apologized, leaning down and planting a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Just remember," he spoke tenderly, "this is the worst it's going to get. Everything is all uphill from here."

"I hope you all are right, although I still don't have a good feeling about this." Hermione stood and turned to walk away. "I need to get ready so I can get to work early if there is any hopes of avoiding the reporters."

"Are you sure you don't want to take the day, Hermione?" Ginny questioned. "You know the Prophet won't rest until they've picked up some sort of reaction from you."

"No. No, best to stay busy, plus Shacklebolt promised I could present my latest proposal on amending the proper working conditions of House Elves next month. I'll need to start revising it immediately so I'm well prepared and-"

"Hermione!" Harry interrupted. "If you went into that meeting right now and gave your presentation, it would be the most well-prepared and thought-out proposal those stuffy wizards ever heard!"

Hermione shook her head affectionately, turned and walked toward her bathroom, the chatter of her three best friends fading behind her. She was so happy to have them all. It had been a long 2 months since Hermione and Ron had actually ended their relationship. No spectacular scene. No scandal. No single earth-shattering event that could no longer be ignored. Their relationship had changed, and for some reason, things had been easier for both of them to step away. They had hidden it from the press, of course. While their split was mutual, and they were both determined not to lose their friendship, they both needed time to mourn the loss of their romantic relationship, and this was best done without the added pressures and stress of the rest of the wizarding world imposing their judgments and conspiracy theories. No, both Ron and Hermione agreed they would take some time apart, and reunite again as friends, and only THEN would they orchestrate the event which would make it known to the rest of the world. It would be on their terms.

The plan was simple, one of them would appear at a significant social event with a different partner. In true Hermione Granger fashion, they sat down, calendars in hand to research and determine the optimal event that would also have the least chance of instigating any unnecessary gossip or slander. An hour later, the event was picked. They needed to find a Ministry function one of them could abstain from without missing out on key opportunities to network, allowing one of them to play the self-sacrificing Gryffindor and brave the press and public 'freshly' single while the other spent the night in the security and comfort of their own home. Ron, wanting to end their now hour-long planning session so he could meet up with Harry and the boys and the pub, volunteered for the task. It took some time to decide who would be the best date to accompany Ron, but in the end, they agreed on Lavender Brown. She was shocked to learn of the breakup and seemed torn at first about the idea of this strategically planned date, but she agreed as Hermione expected she would. Hermione expected their fellow Gryffindor still harbored feelings for Ron. It didn't bother her, Ron out again with Lavender. She had just been relieved it wasn't her that would be bombarded with questions about her and Ron's relationship.

When Hermione well thought about it, no one ever questioned Harry and Ginny's relationship. It was such a natural pairing. Not that they didn't have their ups and downs, not to mention the will-they-won't-they moments during Hogwarts, but anyone who knew the two recognized they would end up together. Theirs was a partnership of equals, both strong, loyal, and devoted, though Ginny remained happy to appear the fiery bossy fiancé, and Harry thrilled to play his part as the lovesick fool, a mere slave to his lover's whims. It was their way of showing their affections and claiming the other as their own to the world. Soulmates.

Hermione once took Ron to be her soulmate or rather had hoped for it. Only those closest to Ron and Hermione actually understood their relationship, but at times even they questioned it. Too many outsiders at Hogwarts, their relationship had been born out of convenience. This conclusion make sense to them. Hermione and Ron were best friends and as Ron grew up, it was hard for anyone to argue his handsomeness. Quidditch had done wonders, not only physically, but also for his overt confidence. It seemed an easy thing for a young girl, too wrapped up in classwork and saving the wizarding world, to fall head over heels for her best friend.

The whole school had also either been witness to or heard of Hermione's "coming out" of sorts at the Yule Ball. It seemed before then, half the school hadn't realized she was a girl. Hermione: the swotty know-it-all bookworm who emerged from her ink-and-parchment cocoon, the Gryffindor Princess. Coupled with her undisputed title of "the Brightest Witch of her Year", Ron would have been a fool to not view her as a prize companion. Toss in numerous near-death experiences while fighting a war all before you turned 18, and anyone could see how convenient it was for them to fall in love. The truth of the matter was, they had things all wrong. In reality, nothing had been convenient about her relationship with Ronald Weasley.

Ron remained far from a confident young man. Few students had been privy to his continued insecurities, and Hermione doubted they would ever fully subside. She was the one to put him in his place when he crossed a line, but she was also the one there for him after the smoke cleared. She balanced his brashness and stubborn nature with her maturity and sensitive demeanor. And Ron balanced her as well. Ron was one of the few who could loosen Hermione up a bit, and in those precious moments, seeing her smile made his heart do odd things in his chest. He sought her approval, and she sought his joy even if it did come with magnificent fights in the Great Hall….. and classes….and the Common Room….and even while they were on the run trying to defeat a dark lord. Yes, theirs was definitely a relationship built on the 'Opposites Attract' theory, rather than 'Soulmates'.

However; just because they naturally offset each other, didn't mean it was convenient. Hermione often pondered if love ever was convenient, or if it ever should be. She liked to think for herself, like everything else in life, love should be something she worked on. Something to be studied, implemented and revised. A never-ending process to learn each other and yourself which proved you remained committed and devoted. This was one thing that she and Ron never agreed on. He sought an easy comforting kind of love like that of his parents. A convenient love. But, that hadn't been a deal breaker for Hermione at the time. They didn't have to agree on HOW to love each other, it only mattered that they loved.

Things happened so fast at the end of the Second Wizarding War. So much to mourn, too many loved ones that should have still been alive that had died. Hermione found things easier if she didn't feel at all rather than suffer that much sorrow. Hermione considered it the most rational thing to do. She couldn't be there for her friends if she became an emotional wreck, and her friends needed her. She would be the strong one for them. She would be the shoulder to cry on, and the one to organize and plan the funerals, so many funerals. She needed to be that for her friends now, and when it was all over, she would mourn. Someone had to hold them all together. She couldn't be selfish now. She knew it was the right thing to do. She assumed it was the right thing to do. But months after the last of their loved ones had been laid to rest, and those remaining were beginning to build back some semblance of their lives, Hermione found that she was stuck. She still couldn't cry. She couldn't mourn. She couldn't smile. And worse of all she knew it. It was like being trapped inside her own body, unable to will it as she should, frightened that she might remain that way forever. If not been for Ron, she was certain that would have been the case. It was him who helped her to know joy again, to laugh and to love.

Hermione was thankful that Ron decided to go to Australia with her to restore her parents' memories. Harry and Ginny also offered to accompany them, but Hermione urged them to remain, sensing they needed some time together to focus on themselves for once, and also to help the Weasleys to cope with life after Fred's death. The more love and support they had at home the better, and they didn't want to be the cause of two more Weasleys (and an honorary Weasley, Harry) away from the family yet. She wasn't sure how long it would take to restore her parents' memories, or if they could be restored at all. All Hermione needed was Ron by her side and she sensed she would have the strength to do this. To not only restore their memories, but alsotheir relationship.

It took weeks to restore the memories, and days for the shouting and tears to stop. Ron was her rock, and she fell more and more in love with him as he continued to show a more mature side of him than she ever witnessed in their time at Hogwarts. War changes people, and as opposed to herself, she realized it helped to change Ron for the better. She was surprised when one day, over a month after their arrival to Australia, that her parents came to her room and fully forgave her. She had feared they would never be able to accept her reasoning or move past the slight fear that she saw in their eyes upon realizing the full extent of what kind of power it takes to so completely remove and alter a person's memories. It had been difficult for Hermione to try to explain her reasons without breaking down in tears, an incoherent mass of bushy hair and sobs. Ron helped. He spoke when words would no longer come to her. Wrapped in her parents arms that day they came to her room, Hermione felt that she could finally begin to move forward with her post-war life, and she knew that life included Ron, but she was still shocked beyond belief when, after their tears had turned to smiles, Ron dropped to one knee and proposed.

It was a perfectly convenient moment. She should have known better.


	3. An Inconvenient Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing besides an over-active imagination.  
> Things are going to start moving forward a bit more quickly after this, as our characters' backstories unfold. We are circling back to our scene with Hermione in the first chapter soon. Why was she having such a bad day I wonder? Well you will have to read on to find out!

Hermione stepped out of the shower, enjoying the warmth the lingering steam still provided her damp skin. Casting a quick drying charm on herself, she reached her hand out and wiped it once across the bathroom mirror, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the rest of the room. In the small area of the mirror, now no longer slick with condensation, she took a few moments to check her reflection.

She was no great beauty, she knew, but she supposed that over the past few years she had become somewhat pretty. She had never been concerned with how she looked during her relationship with Ron. She saw no point in dedicating too much time to her appearance in an attempt to impress him. They had been friends since they were 11 and he had seen her at her worse and most beaver-ish states. It would have fooled no-one. But now, she was a single witch again, and she wasn't entirely sure how to act. Yes, she had been single for months, but the rest of the wizarding world didn't know that. For a quick moment she considered calling for Ginny to come help her pick out an outfit and possibly her makeup, but dismissed the idea. She was Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire through and through, and no fancy robes and no measure of make-up would change that. And she didn't want a wizard who needed all that either. Not that she was looking for a new wizard right now.

Sighing in defeat at her own reflection, she opted for her standard regimen. A slight dusting of eye shadow and some lip gloss. After an hour of fighting her unruly mane, she was able to wrangle it into a professional-looking bun, a few stray ringlets daring to escape, tickling the back of her neck . It would do.

30 minutes later, she was settling into the quiet of her office, having successfully navigated the nearly empty halls of the Ministry without incident. She was one of only a handful of officials that arrived to work this early. Noting her morning was free of meetings, again, she picked up the first parchment from her inbox.

> _Dear Miss Granger,_
> 
> _While it is clear to us that you feel very passionately concerning the current status of house elves, we are unable to contribute any funds at this time. Our financial group supports many well-established charities and our commitments for the year have been set._
> 
> _Perhaps in a few years time, should your passion project remain, you may submit your proposal for a secondary review at your convenience._
> 
> _We wish you luck in your endeavors._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _T.D. Branchwood_

Hermione scowled. Well if that wasn't a firm dismissal, she didn't know what was. She crumpled the paper into a ball. Choking it, as if she squeezed it hard enough, Branchwood himself might feel it. What as wrong with these people? She wasn't asking for much, a small donation to help get her project off the ground. She had been sending owls for weeks now, in hopes of acquiring enough financial backing to show the Minister that S.P.E.W. could be taken seriously. It was no small thing she was proposing, but it was necessary. The wizarding world could not continue to subjugate house elves to such horrid conditions. Dropping the abused ball of parchment to the floor, she began sorting through her remaining replies.

"-don't see how this endeavor is beneficial-"

"-no financial payoff-"

"-staggering negative impact to wizarding families-"

"limitless consequences-"

"-inconvenience-"

There was that blasted word again! To hell with convenience! This is what was wrong with the wizarding world, it focused on convenience, to the detriment of whoever they saw as their inferiors. Did the world learn nothing from not one, but two wizarding wars!? She had fought for this world. HER world. Her friends had DIED for this world, and in such a short time people were content to fall back into old patterns and routines of ignorance and bigotry.

Hermione's blood began to boil as her mind raced. Convenience. She shouldn't get so worked up. Convenience. She had expected some responses like this. Convenience.

Convenience had ended her relationship with Ron and shattered the future she had mapped out for herself. She supposed it wasn't fair to blame a single word so viciously for interfering in her life, and her rational self scolded her need to place blame. But the way she and Ron had ended things had been so anticlimactic she found herself searching for something to revolt against. Something she could lash out against, to scream and curse and beat her fists against as tears of sadness and rage fell down her face.

The last six months of their relationship, Hermione felt them drifting apart. They loved each other, but after she finished school and they began mapping out the rest of their lives together, she couldn't help but wonder if their maps were leading them in different directions. She hadn't expected their relationship to be easy. Their fights were legendary among their friends. Explosive and passionate, but ultimately short-lived. They always made up. Sorted out their differences. Then, one day, things changed. Their arguments no longer held the same emotions, and they no longer talked through their problems. Instead, they remained silent after, stoic until one of them finally gave in and began speaking again, as if nothing had happened. They would move on and never revisit the issue, and she couldn't help but mentally catalog each occurrence, identifying the trending topics, comparing and analyzing their reactions. She was nothing if not studious.

I don't have the time.

I was busy with work.

Why didn't you tell me?

Some other time.

So boring.

Inconvenient.

It started out small.

Planning their wedding should have been an exciting time for them, or at least for Hermione. But sitting down with her mother, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny, she couldn't seem to muster up the same enthusiasm she always expected to have. She would smile kindly at the women, swoon over dresses, and select decorations, but it didn't feel real. Didn't feel like she was planning her wedding. Whenever she would ask Ron for his input he would always reply simple. Telling her it was her day, and he was sure she would make the right decisions. He was sure it would be lovely. She asked him to join her several times, but he never seemed to be able to find the time, letting her know via owl that this day or that time didn't work with his schedule. Wasn't convenient. She knew as an Auror his schedule was unpredictable whenever they had a case, but she thought he would have been able to carve out some time for something as important as their wedding. Ginny had been furious at his behavior, vowing to hit him with her famous bat-bogie next the next time she laid eyes on him, but Hermione had assured her it was not necessary.

"Why are you not more upset about this Mione? This is your wedding and that brother of mine hadn't lifted a finger to help you!"

"Gin, it's fine. He's so busy on the Goyle case right now, I don't want to bother him with it. It's not a convenient time right now for him to be pulled away to look at flowers he doesn't even recognize." Hermione thought Ginny's eyes were going to pop out of her head.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS SO INCONVENIENT ABOUT GETTING MARRIED TO THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE?!"

It had started out small, albeit loud. A question. Why did it seem so inconvenient?

There was a knock on her door. Startled, Hermione nearly fell over in her chair. Who could that be? It was barely 8 am. She never had visitors this early. Maybe it was one of the companies she had owled her proposal to! She began straightening her desk. It wouldn't do for a prospective beneficiary to walk in and think she was unorganized. They would never trust her with their money!

Another knock. Then a distinctly feminine voice.

"Miss Granger, are you there?" The aristocratic drawl sounded as if it was somehow wrapped in silk. Smooth, yet firm. Hermione stilled. That voice. It sounded so oddly familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Miss Granger, if this is inconvenient-"

"No!" Hermione shouted, a bit too forcefully. "I mean, please, come in." Hermione stood, brushing her hands over her hair and then down the length of her blouse and top in a final attempt not to look too disheveled. She heard the door open, and as she lifted her head, smile in place to greet the woman, her breath stopped in her throat and she couldn't stop the overwhelming panic that spread through her entire body. Her physical reaction to the witch's presence was not missed, as she raised one perfectly manicured blonde eyebrow, an amused smile on her lips. Hermione's mind was racing, her pulse quick.

Why is she here? In my office? What does she want? What do I do? Is she here to kill me? No, she wouldn't. Would she? She's staring at me. Why is she staring? Oh right, because she's standing in your office and you've lost the ability to speak. Speak. SPEAK HERMIONE!

Finally snapping out of her shocked state, Hermione managed to breathe again and attempted to school her features. Forcing a small smile she gestured to the oversized brown chair in front of her desk.

"So nice to see you again. Please, do sit Mrs. Malfoy"


	4. Tea Anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

Narcissa Malfoy nodded her head at the young witch, gracefully making her way to the chair. While Hermione's body seemed to have frozen, her addled mind worked to recall proper social etiquettes.

"Mrs. Malfoy, would you like some t-tea?" Hermione cursed herself for the slight stutter in her voice.

"Thank you Miss Granger, but I will not take up much of your valuable time." Hermione searched the woman's face for traces of sarcasm but found none. That was not surprising though, she was a Slytherin and Malfoy. Her face would betray only that which she intended. Hermione could not help but admire the woman's beauty. While she possessed similar aristocratic features as the Malfoy men, Mrs. Malfoy's were softer, more inviting.

"How are your parents Miss Granger?"

"M-my parents?" Hermione blanched. Was Narcissa Malfoy asking after her parents? "They are well. Thank you for asking."

"I was so pleased to learn you had been successful in restoring their memories. They chose to remain out of the country, correct? Do you have much contact with them?"

"Well, yes. They send me a letter every week." Hermione felt trapped. How did this woman make her feel trapped in her own office?

"That's wonderful of you, family is so important. Don't you agree?" She continued before Hermione could reply, "I have never had the opportunity to express my admiration for your bravery. It takes a strong will to sacrifice so much to protect your family. Most impressive you were able to cast such a powerful charm at such a young age as well. But then again, you are the brightest witch of-" Hermione could no longer stand these odd pleasantries.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Malfoy and I don't mean to be rude but, why are you here?" The elder witch started, and Hermione could see a flash of something in her eye. Was that, hurt?

"Right. I would like to invite you to tea at the Manor. Tomorrow afternoon, if it's convenient."

"You're inviting me to tea?"

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Why?!" Hermione gaped, almost laughing out loud at the thought. A Malfoy was inviting a muggleborn to tea? Surely she was dreaming. Or this was someone's sick idea of a joke.

"Miss Granger. I understand your... hesitation," Hermione snapped her mouth shut and lowered her gaze somewhat, realizing she was being rather rude. This woman had never done anything directly to her, except spawn the bane of her Hogwarts existence. Yes, she was married to, and the mother of a Deatheater, but she hadn't taken the mark herself. And she had saved Harry's life, even if it was out of a need to find her only son. That's why Harry, Ron, and she had testified during the Malfoy trials. Even now she had been entirely pleasant and respectful speaking to her.

"Miss Granger. I owe you a great deal for what you did for my family. I had intended on contacting you sooner, but," the witch paused, seeming to search for words. "But, you are no doubt aware that until recently, the Ministry insisted I remain at the Manor. I did not suppose you would accept a written invitation, or I would have extended one."

At that last statement, Narcissa Malfoy glanced down to her lap. Hermione followed the trail of her eyes and noticed something she hadn't before. The woman was wringing her hands, ever so slightly. Both witches looked up, meeting the others gaze. The woman was nervous! Hermione couldn't believe it. She should have felt vindicated. Ron would love this. He would make some comment about how far the 'mighty' have fallen before flat out refusing the invitation, dismissing the woman. But Hermione could feel nothing but pity.

Ron would tell her it was her bleeding heart. She was too intent on saving every lost soul she met for her own good. And perhapse that was the reason, but without another thought and with no doubt, Hermione spoke.

"That would be lovely Mrs. Malfoy."

Hermione waited precisely 10 minutes after Narcissa Malfoy left her office before sprinting to the lifts. Two floors up, she was the first one through the doors as she followed the now-familiar path through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to Harry's office. Without bothering to knock, even though the door was shut, she stomped into his office and tossed herself into a chair with all the elegance and grace of a blind mountain troll.

"Oh no, Hermione, of course. Come on in and take a seat" Harry drawled, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he brought both hands behind his head, leaning back informally in his office chair and glanced at the clock. Hermione merely huffed.

"8:18. Ginny owes me a galleon. She was sure you wouldn't break down my door until at least 9:30"

"Honestly Harry. Do the two of you need to bet on everything?"

"We don't bet on everything Mione. There are other games we like to play as well," Harry eagerly leaned forward over his desk and wiggled his eyebrows in a way that reminded her of Ginny.

"Ew! Ew! Ew! Harry! Stop. I don't want to hear any more" she shrieked, but laughed all the same. "It's bad enough I have to deal with Gin swooning over your 'intimate moments', I can't handle it from you as well"

"Swooning? Really, Hermione, we both know Ginny swoons for no man."

"Only for you, chosen one. She swoons only for you."

"So," Harry began in his best straight-to-business tone, "How many reporters did you hex before you retreated to the safety of my office?"

"Oh, it was no reporter, Harry. Would you believe NARCISSA MALFOY came to my office!" she scoffed. "And invited me to tea!" She grinned fiercely, watching Harry so that she could revel in his shocked reaction. She waited, but the reaction never came, instead, he looked down, fiddling with a stack of papers that looked of no consequence.

"Oh, how strange," he replied. Hermione knew her friend well enough to tell he was trying to fake surprise, but Harry was a shite liar.

"Harry..." Hermione warned, "what do you know!?"

"Well...don't hate me, but I might've encouraged that." Hermione was on her feet in an instance. Stepping as close to Harry's desk as possible, she was a fierce sight to behold. Her right hand twitched toward her wand, but she tempered her rage. She knew she was overreacting. This was no reason to hex her best friend, but she still hadn't found a way to release all this post-breakup fury she suppressed each day.

"You WHAT?! What? How? Why? Harry Potter, you explain yourself right this very mo-"

"Ok! OK! Hermione, calm down." Hermione's hair began to frizz and Harry could see sparks as her magic was radiating off of her. He realized he better explain the situation and fast. He was lucky the witch loved him, or he would've already been staring down the end of her wand. He tensed.

"Look, Mione. She contacted me not long after the trial. We had tea. It wasn't horrible. I expect she's lonely, what with the house arrest and all. She owled me again after and invited me back...it kind of became a monthly thing. I promise, there's nothing malicious or devious intent behind her invitation. She wanted to have you over with us a while ago, but she didn't think you would accept her owls. She wants to say thank you."

"Has the woman never heard of a thank you card. Merlin Harry! I can't believe you never told me! Or you could have least invited me WITH you, so I wouldn't be going into the snakes' den alone!" Hermione flopped back down into the chair and huffed curls that had escaped the confines of her bun, and fallen into her eyes. Harry relaxed back into his chair.

"I would have brought you, Hermione, honest. It's just, oh Godric save me, I'm just going to say it! FOR THE PAST YEAR I'VE BEEN HAVING TEA WITH NARCISSA AND DRACO MALFOY!"


	5. Shock and Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing besides an over-active imagination.

Harry eyed Hermione through the fringe of his messy dark hair. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, in contrast with his racing heart. He wasn't sure how he expected Hermione to react to his shouted admission, but it was not silence. This wasn't how he intended to tell her. And he HAD intended to tell her. His tentative friendship with the Malfoys was not something he sought to conceal, from his friends or the rest of the world, but, as Narcissa could not leave the Manor, their interactions had never been seen by the prying eyes of the wizarding world. Merlin knows the press would never think to inquire about any form of relationship between the boy who lived and the Malfoys. Even the Prophet wouldn't think that believable. As far as telling his friends, well, Ginny knew, of course. Telling Ron seemed out of the question. And Hermione, well by the time Harry decided that the Malfoys would remain a part of his life, Hermione had been dealing with enough.

Harry felt helpless as he watched Ron and Hermione's relationship deteriorate. Observed as their relationship collapsed in on itself and neither did much of anything to prevent it. Hermione only spoke with him about it once, three months ago. She and Ron weren't been speaking, again, and eventually, she flooed to his and Ron's flat. It had been her turn to break the silence. When she arrived and Ron was nowhere to be found, she collapsed onto his sofa and sobbed. It was bound to happen. He realized his best friend could only keep such emotions bottled up inside for so long.

"I just don't understand what's happened to us, Harry." Hermione finally spoke, straightening up and using the backs of her hands to wipe the moisture from her face. "Aside from breakfast, we hardly ever see each other. I realize we are both busy, it's not our conflicting work schedules that bother me. It's what happens when neither of us is working. We never go out, not together at least. Not unless it's brunch at the Burrow. We see each other before bed, we sleep, we wake up and spend our mornings together, speaking about nothing of any significance, and then we go about our separate lives. Merlin! What happened to us?" For a moment Harry assumed she might begin crying again, but instead, she sighed and relaxed back into the sofa. Harry waited a moment, wanting to make sure she was done before speaking.

"I don't know what's happened, Mione. Maybe you need to make it easier to spend time together, more convenient, you know? Have you talked about officially moving in together? I mean, Ron sleeps there, and Ginny here most night anyway…." Harry trailed off, and he watched Hermione's fists clench. His stomach lurched, and he prepared himself for her onslaught.

"Harry Potter," Hermione Grit out his name like it was sandpaper. "You want me to make it easier on him? More….convenient for him to want to be around me? His fiancé!" Uh oh, this was going to be worse than he thought. Hermione stood suddenly, her magic radiating off her in waves, and Harry instinctively shot back into his seat, pressing his body as far into the back of the chair as possible. Willing more space between himself and the witch in front of him. Hermione began pacing the room, and it was then Harry noticed her wand in her hand. Knuckles white from the force with which she was holding it.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with everyone? Why does everything have to be convenient? Guess what!?" She stopped at that, facing Harry and boring her red-rimmed eyes into his soul. It was then Harry realized she was expecting a response.

"Eh wh-what?" he stammered, voice cracking a bit. Hermione resumed her prior pacing.

"LIFE ISN'T CONVENIENT HARRY POTTER! If he wants to be with me, he should make the time! That's what you do! You MAKE IT WORK. Life's not all sunshine and garden parties, Harry! I am planning a wedding ALONE. Ok, not alone, there's mother and Molly and Gin, but STILL. There's no Ron there. He can't be bothered to help. My appointments aren't at convenient times for him. I swear to Merlin I'm so bloody tired of people talking about CONVENIENCE" Hermione, inhaled deeply, her breath stuttering as it left her chest.

"Why doesn't Ron fight for us, Harry?" There was a pregnant pause, and then a whisper, "Why don't I?"

Harry shook his head, willing away the memory. Hermione still hadn't spoken a word. Harry hung his head, squeezing his eyes closed, and took a deep breath in an attempt to steal his nerves. He should put a silencing charm on the room and maybe send a Patronus ahead to Saint Mungo's because Hermione Granger was going to murder him.

"That's how she learned about my parents?" Hermione's voice, even and clear. Harry met her gaze.

"I told her about your trip, yes."

"What other bits of my personal life did you deem yourself entitled to share without my permission?"

"Mione-"

"DON'T!" She snapped. And stood, spinning on her heel before marching toward the door. But before turning to make her way back down the hall she stopped and without turning to face him, she spoke again. Back straight, head held high... "I'm not going to presume to understand what went through your mind, and made you decide to keep this from me. I'm not upset that you've been socializing with her. I'm upset that you lied and you plotted behind my back, and you shared things, very personal, parts of my life you had no right to disclose, with a woman I do not know. I need some time to process this." Though it was clear she was done speaking, she didn't move.

"Mione, I'm sorry. Really, I am."

"I know," she replied, her voice holding none of the malice of her prior statement.

"A-are we OK?"

"We will be." She moved to leave but before she turned from view, Harry couldn't help but call out.

"Hermione!" She paused, glancing over at him, awaiting his next words. "Are. Are you going to meet her? For tea?"

A single word fell from her lips.

"Yes."


	6. Buggar Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing aside from an over-active imagination.  
> This chapter we circle back to the first flash back we had in Chapter 1, where Hermione talks with her boss and receives the owl from Draco.

Outside Harry's office, Hermione plastered on another one of her practiced smiles and navigated her way back down to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The halls of the Ministry no longer provided her the same safety and solitude they had earlier that morning. They now bustled with their usual feeling of slightly controlled chaos. Hermione smiled politely and returned quick greetings as she made her way off the lift. Not far now. She was almost back in the safety of her office. She told Harry she needed time to think, and she would, but right now she needed a distraction. Between the article in the Daily Prophet, Narcissa Malfoy's surprise visit, and learning Harry has been cordial with her for over a year, Hermione's temper raged, and she fought to keep it in check. Harry having tea at Malfoy Manor, and not just with Narcissa, but Draco Malfoy! It was too much. At least no one brought up the breakup.

Yet. As she rounded the last corner on the way to her office, Hermione's heart dropped. Mathilda Grimblehawk was heading her way. Mathilda was a well-meaning enough witch, but having worked in the Beast Division nearly all her life before being promoted to department head, Hermione often wondered if she spent more time around beasts that beings. She tended not to pick up on social cues and personal space. Nothing remained private or sacred with this woman, although, Hermione supposed it came from a good place. having never married, she had no children and no remaining family of her own. That's probably also why she spent as much time in the office as Hermione. Mathilda came from Hermione's office, and as she was walking straight for her, there was no escape. Hermione bet she should guess what the witch wanted to talk to her about.

After listening to Mathilda prattle on about her break up with Ron and insisting she take the day off, Hermione reluctantly agreed, secretly planning to gather the documents from her office and spend the rest of the day working from home until Ginny returned. She didn't appreciate being forced out of the office, but once Mathilda has her mind set on something, it was mostly easier to agree. She didn't expect an owl to be waiting for her. And she certainly hadn't expected it to be from a Malfoy.

 

> _Granger,_
> 
> _We need to talk._
> 
> _D.M._

Hermione stared blankly at the words on the parchment, written in a beautifully elegant scroll, but they refused to sink in. She was sure she had been standing like this for 10 minutes, having read the same words 50 or more times before hearing a knock on her door.

"Miss Granger! As soon as it's convenient, will you come by my office before you leave?"

"Yes, Ms. Grimblehawk! I-I'll be right there," Hermione shrieked out. She looked back down at the note, then up at the clock. 8:57. Godric help her, was the entire world trying to drive her mad today? At this rate, she was going to be committed to the ward at Saint Mungo's by 10:00. With a flick of her wand, she sent Malfoy's note flying to the rubbish bin. She had no desire to talk to the man. She had not seen him in a year and wanted to keep it that way. She also could not be expected to interact with two Malfoys in a single day, especially in her current mental state. She was ready to hex the next person who crossed her. Harry had temporarily escaped her wrath. She hadn't thought it a good idea to hex an Auror in his own office, surrounded by all of MLE, but Malfoy would be an excellent target for her rage. But she best not tempt it. She began collecting her needed parchments, and as she reached to grab her cloak, Malfoy's owl, still awaiting a response, snapped, nipping at her fingers. The opposing owl bristled, ruffling its feathers, not at all pleased with being ignored.

"Oh bugger off you foul thing!" Hermione, in a sudden act of childish rebellion, stuck out her tongue at the Malfoy owl, before exiting her office, slamming the door shut behind her. Her visit to Mathilda's office was rather quick. The woman quietly offering her a kind ear should she need to talk about her breakup and requesting an update the following week on her project for the Minister. Making her way across the atrium, she cursed as she saw a group of reporters and photographers blocking her escape. A moment later they swarmed, and she did her best to force a path through them.

_"Miss Granger! How are you taking the break up?"_

_"Did he leave you for Lavender Brown?"_

_"Has Ron cheated before?"_

Suddenly Hermione stopped. She planned to ignore their ridiculous questions, but she didn't like the way their line of questioning was going. They were going to paint Ron as the villain, and she would not sit back and let that happen to him. He was not at fault for this breakup.

"Everyone! Listen up, because I am only going to say this once." There was silence, quills hovering in anticipation of her words. "Ron did not cheat on me. Ever. We have not been together for over two months, but we are still friends. There is no ill will between us. As far as Lavender Brown, she is a dear friend of ours from Hogwarts, and I was aware she would be attending the Ball with Ronald. I am told they had a wonderful time. There is no story here for you people, so, just, bugger off!" Hermione huffed and spun back around, moving as quickly as possible, without full out sprinting, to the apparition point. She heard the mass of reporters all begin speaking again at once and heard the flashing of their cameras behind her, but she couldn't make out their words. Blood rushed through her eardrums, drowning them out.


	7. Saying Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination.  
> Enter Draco Malfoy...Enjoy!

At exactly 4:00PM the next day, Hermione stood in her living room, Ginny at her side.

"It's now or never, Mione." Taking a deep breath, she stepped into her fireplace, tossing the floo powder at her feet, and in a clear voice, called out her destination.

"MALFOY MANOR"

Hermione had imagined a wide variety of scenarios; various sights that might greet her upon stepping into Malfoy Manor. The worst being her stepping into a dark dungeon, walls lined with abused house elves hanging limply over a pit of hungry snakes. That horrifying thought firmly in place, she had flooed the Manor, assured anything that happened there today would be less horrific, but it seemed she was mistaken. No, as she took her first steps into the manor, brushing the lingering soot from her robes, she looked up to a sight much more frightful, a furious Draco Malfoy.

She couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath the sight of him triggered. And her blood pumped and her pulse quickened. Mrs. Malfoy hadn't mentioned her son would be there, and from the look on his face, he thirsted for blood, not tea. His features were severe, his face warped into a scowl. Standing no more than a foot away, she could see the large vein in his forehead pulsing in irritation under his smooth ivory skin.

"You didn't respond to my owl." He practically spat the words at her. She didn't know how to respond. Part of her wanted to turn and run. Was this a trap after all? Was it all some elaborate ploy finally kill Harry Potter's muggleborn friend? She frantically looked around the room, wondering if deatheaters might be waiting beyond its walls, waiting to torture her, again, in this house, for the last time. No, she told herself, no. Harry. Had promised her the invitation was sincere. But then, why was Draco Malfoy waiting for her, here, pure malice oozing from his every pore?

"I've been busy," she replied, trying to match the disgust evident in his own words. "And we have nothing to discuss." Gathering her Gryffindor courage she took two purposeful steps toward him. She would not allow him to intimidate her. Draco stood his ground, eyeing her suspiciously as she stood directly in front of him, meeting his glare with one of her own. Eyes locked in a silent battle.

"Why did you come here?"

"I was invited. By your mother."

Rolling his eyes in response, Hermione watched the muscles in his face and neck as he clenched his jaw before speaking again. This time his voice was lower but still demanding.

"I am aware of your invite, Granger. But why? Did. You. Come?" His steel grey eyes bore into her own, their iciness making her breath hitch in her chest. She had forgotten the power in those eyes. She opened her mouth to reply, words of anger on the tip of her tongue, as another voice floated through the room.

"Miss Granger! There you are! I had begun to worry. Draco, dear, I didn't realize you were still here!" At the sound of Narcissa's entrance, both Hermione and Draco had turned to face her, now side by side, they took turns glaring at the other from their peripheral. Their right hands hovered over where they kept their wands, each anticipating a move from the other.

"Draco?" Narcissa questioned? She was no fool. She had seen the looks of contempt on their faces, read their body language and in an instant realized a duel was brewing. No stranger to the stories of their past, she knew the rivalry and history of hostility between the pair, and she did want this tea to go well. She moved to face to her son, a meaningful expression in her eyes. Draco didn't miss it, and in an instant, his face softened slightly and his shoulders relaxed.

"Mother, I was on my way out when I ran into Miss Granger here, having arrived only moments ago. We were merely... saying hello." Hermione scoffed. Saying hello indeed. He strode forward to meet his mother, taking her hand and placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"Goodbye, Mother." He turned on his heel and walked straight to Hermione. And suddenly he smirked. Before she could react, he took her left hand in his right, turning her knuckles up as he leaned forward to kiss them. To an outsider, it might have appeared a civil gesture, maybe even sweet, but his hand gripped hers too tight, and his kiss was not tender, but hard and bruising. Hermione winced at the pain. As he began to straighten, he jerked her hand straight down, pulling her body almost flush against his, and bend his head down so he could whisper in her ear.

"I don't know what you're playing at Granger. But I will discover your intentions with my mother. I am not a man to be denied. Or ignored." Then just as suddenly as he had grabbed it, he released her hand, causing Hermione to stumble slightly, and suddenly he was gone from the room, with nothing but the pain in her fingers and his lingering scent as evidence he was really ever there.

"Miss Granger? Are you feeling well? You look a bit pale." Hermione looked to the elder witch and was surprised to see an open look of concern on her face.

"Yes, yes Mrs. Malfoy. I'm quite well, I assure you," Hermione spoke, her voice conveying more confidence than she had. She would deal with Draco Malfoy later.

"Excellent! This way, my dear." She indicates the hallway they should take and Hermione quickly fell into step beside the Malfoy matriarch. They walked in silence at first, only the sounds of their footsteps echoing through the dimly lit hallways. Unsure if she should break the silence, Hermione began to focus on their steps, noting the varying sound and patterns of them. Her own conservative flats slapped against the hard floors at a somewhat uneven pace. Narcissa wore wearing a pair of elegant black heels, and from the look of them, they cost more than Hermione's entire outfit. Her steps were soft and even, the heels clicking quietly and rhythmically. Everything about this woman screamed practiced perfection. Suddenly the slapping and clicking of their steps were silenced, and Hermione noted this portion of the hallways was blanketed with lush, magnificent carpets. She then began to examine the hallways walls, covered in rich papers, but surprisingly void of portraits. She had heard the handsome manor had been filled with portraits depicting the 'great' Malfoy lineage. She wondered if they were removed by order of the Ministry. She supposed it would be rude to ask. At last, Mrs. Malfoy stopped in front of the door, grasping the bronze doorknob, and Hermione noticed a small smirk playing at the edge of her lips. She swung the door open, and they were enveloped in a sudden warmth of light. Tentatively, Hermione stepped through the doorway and gasped.

This room was not one she expected to find at Malfoy Manor. Vast diamond-paned windows lined one wall, looking out on the most beautiful gardens she had ever seen. In the distance, she saw elegant white peacocks roving along the yew hedges. She laughed to herself. Why wouldn't the Malfoys have peacocks? She spun around, admiring the rest of the room, ornately carved moldings, and a large gilded mirror over a marble stone fireplace. The hard marble floors in this room were also covered with an intricately woven carpet. In front of the fireplace was a small settee, a gorgeous winged high back chair, and a glass-top coffee table.

"It's beautiful," she said breathlessly as she turned to face her host. Mrs. Malfoy has not moved from the doorway and appeared to have been watching Hermione's every move. Her eyes shone with something akin to pride, and she wore a genuine smile on her lips.

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

"Please, call me Hermione." She wasn't sure what prompted her to suggest such a thing, maybe it was the light feeling a sense of peace the room seemed to inspire, but it seemed to only further please the elder witch."

"Please sit down, Hermione." As the witches sat down, Narcissa called out. "Tootsie!" With a pop the tiny creature appeared, dressing in a clean flour sack embroidered with the Malfoy crest.

"Mistress called?" The elf squeaked.

"Yes, Tootsie. Please bring us a tray. Tea and an assortment of biscuits."

"Right away mistress. Tootsie will bring the bestest for mistress and her guests." And with a quick nod, she was gone.

Hermione was pleased to observe the elf seemed well looked after although anyone could fake it for an afternoon. She would need to keep an eye out for any tell signs of abuse or neglect. She knew the abuse Dobby had suffered at the hands of the Malfoys not long ago. It was foolish to think the treatment would be much different for Tootsie. Still, she smiled at her host.

"She is quite well looked after." Hermione was surprised Narcissa broached the topic. "I know how impassioned you are regarding elf rights, and I truly would enjoy discussing it with you further...at a later date. However, that is not the reason for my invitation."

"What is the reason then, if I might ask."

"Miss Granger. Hermione. I won't insult either of us by ignoring the role my family played in the war. I also will not attempt to gain any sympathies, we were willing participants, in the beginning. I don't expect you to understand the choices I have made in my life, however, I will tell you that every single choice I made, I made in hopes of protecting my family. That being said, you and your friends protected my family, or rather, you protected my son. You saved his life at Hogwarts, even when he and his friends almost took your own. And you testified on his and my behalf during the trials. You were under no obligation to do either of these things. You owed no debt or loyalty to our family. Much the opposite, now. You three are the reason my Draco and I are not currently in Azkaban with my husband. You have given us an opportunity to live." There was a small pop, and then a squeak as Tootsie arrived with their tea and biscuits. The tiny elf quickly poured each witch a cup and then disappeared with a long bow of her large head. Both unsure of whether the elder witch was done speaking, and what response she was to give to such a confession, Hermione quietly sipped her tea. Narcissa sighed a dainty sigh before continuing.

”I have had a year to think about this life I have been gifted. The houses of Malfoy and Black have a great history. Both powerful and respectable in their times. Times, Hermione, do change. And it would seem, at times such as these, we must change as well. I hope to one day see the Malfoy name revered as great again. I will do what I can to implement this change, but alas, the heavy burden of such a task falls to my dear Draco, as head of the house of Malfoy. There have been only a few instances in my life, Miss Granger, that have caused me to fear for my familial name, now is one of those times. But I also have hope. There is hope for the house of Black, now that there is another honorable man at its head.” She paused, smiling at the young witch. Hermione felt like she was intended to understand something unsaid.

”I'm sorry, I don't quite get your meaning. Who is now the head of the Black family?” It wasn't Malfoy. Surely she didn't mean Teddy, but they were the only living males with Black blood. Mrs. Malfoy seemed shocked at her ignorance.

”Why, Mr. Potter, of course! As Sirius’ godson, young Harry inherited a good deal more than just a Black home upon his death. This is yet another reason I have encouraged Draco to put the past aside and work closely with Harry. Together, they restore their two houses and mine.” She had never thought of Harry’s position as a ’Black’ since his godfather’s death, such obligations to family name only existed in the aristocratic pureblood lineages. They truly did still follow the old ways. She nodded her understanding and took another sip from her cup.

”You know, you're right Mrs. Malfoy. I don't understand the choices you and your family made, and I don't believe I ever will.” The witch opposite her dropped her eyes slightly. ”But I doubt you understand every decision I have made either. We are very different people. I am sure we always have been, and always will be. But the other day in my office, and here today, in your home, you have treated me with more respect than I have ever received in all the years before. I could focus on that, on the pain you, your family, and others that believed like you caused me and the people I love. But then I would be no better. If that's what I wanted, I would never have testified in your case. I think, in order for us to move forward and rebuild, everyone must change, not just those who chose the wrong side.”

Hermione sat down her cup and fully faced the eldest witch, she hoped her words conveyed her intent. She was willing to move past their pasts. It wasn't forgiveness, and she would never forget, but she could learn to build better memories, and a better world with those who had wronged her. Even with a Malfoy. She was met with warm pale blue eyes and an appreciative smile.

”Well said, Miss Granger. Well said.” And the witches slipped into a comfortable silence. 


	8. There's No Place Like Home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Nearly two hours later, Hermione was happy to be returning to the comfort and security of her own flat. Immediately shrugging out of her cloak, she was happy to see Ginny sitting on their sofa, engrossed in the latest issue of _Seeker Weekly_ , and oblivious to her roommate's return.

"Harry! You own me a galleon! Krum _does_ prefer the Cleansweep to the Nimbus! HA!" Thoroughly pleased with herself, a smug grin on her face, Ginny closed the magazine and tossed it onto the sofa beside her. Looking up, she started.

"Oh! Mione! You're back," the witch said, a bit louder than necessary. Her eyes grew wide and her smile instantly wiped from her face. Hermione saw red.

"What is Harry doing here, Gin?! I TOLD you I didn't want him around." Ginny stood from her seat on the sofa and adopted her best Molly Weasley stance.

"I know, Mione, but you two are going to just have to get past this. Might as well be today. HARRY! Stop hiding from your best friend and get in here this instant!"

Harry shuffled into the room and stood stiffly behind the sofa, strategically placing his body so that Ginny sat between him and his best friend.

"Harry Potter, don't you dare use your fiancé as a shield! And Ginny, I TOLD you I would deal with this when I was ready. In case you two haven't noticed, there's been a lot going on these past few days!"

Anger and frustration were boiling within her and she could feel her magic coursing through her, sparking at her fingertips. She realized her behavior was becoming erratic, recognized that eventually all this anger that she had thus far managed to taper down was still only just below the surface, and would eventually come to a head, she only hoped it wouldn't be her best friends who triggered it. She somehow managed not to Avada Harry or the press just yesterday. The entire purpose of orchestrating the delayed announcement of her and Ron's breakup was so that everyone involved would be as cool-headed as possible, eliminating any blow-ups, and resulting in the news being only a blip on the press's radar. It was Hermione's idea, but she seemed to be the one struggling the most. Truth was, she still didn't feel like herself, and she was beginning to wonder if she ever would. Ron hadn't lost his temper once. Since when was RON the rational one, and she the irrational witch who overreacted and threatened to hex her friends? She knew that Ginny was right, she and Harry had been through so much together, and they needed to talk this through like adults. But Godric help her, she didn't _want_ to talk. She wanted to stay mad at Harry for hiding his relationship with the Malfoys for over a year, curse Ginny for forcing her to deal with her contradicting emotions, and to scream at Ron, demand he tell her how he can be so OK with everything, and beg him to help her be OK too. And she wanted to hex that prat Draco Malfoy, so he could never smirk at her again! Who on earth did he think he was, speaking to her like that? He should count himself lucky his mother came in when she did, or Hermione would have hexed his balls off. She had no idea what he was talking about, when he had grabbed her and pulled her so close to him, whispering his dark promise of discovering her 'intentions'. She had not seen Malfoy since leaving Hogwarts, and that suited her fine. She spent little to no time thinking of the man, the only instances being when she saw the latest gossip on his romantic entanglements plastered across the front page of the Daily Prophet as if that had been newsworthy in the slightest. She wasn't interested in who Malfoy spent his time shagging and could not see why any respectable witch would spare him a second glance. But then, she supposed the women he 'dated' were not her idea of respectable witches. They were all probably just after his money, unable of forming an intelligent train of thought. Hermione hadn't realized, but she had begun pacing, muttering quietly under her breath as Ginny and Harry watching warily, following her movements, until Ginny could stand it no longer.

"Hermione!" Hermione froze mid-stride before turning to face her friends. Oh, yes, that's right. THESE were the people she CURRENTLY wanted to hex. "Harry Potter! What were you thinking!? OK, I get not telling us all straight away that you had taken up with a Malfoy, but to keep it from us, from ME for more than a year?! Did you not think I could understand? Did you not care? What if something happened to you while you were there? You had no way of knowing that they weren't secretly out to hurt you! They are Slytherins after all! They could have killed you, or _worse,_ and no one would have known where you were to come and find you! And not only do you keep this from me, you proceeded to divulge information about my _parents_ to these people! YOU TOLD THEM WHERE THEY LIVED! Merlin, they could have killed you, and then gone and tracked down my PARENTS, Harry!"

Hermione could no longer hold back the tears of anger and horror at the notion of her best friend and parents dead. Images of their bloody lifeless bodies ran through her mind. Suddenly she felt like she had back during the war, scared and alone, wondering who of her friends were alive or dead. Wondering if the memory charm had been strong enough, or if the deatheaters had already found her parents. She thought back to those months the trio spend on the run, Ron huddled over that blasted radio, listening to the ever-growing list of casualties filled their tent. Hermione felt sick.

"I know Hermione. I shouldn't have kept it from you. But I swear, I never told her where your parents were. I only told her they were out of the country and-"

"You still had NO RIGHT!" Hermione shouted. Her face red with anger as the tears fell silently down her cheeks.

"I knew where he was, Mione." Ginny suddenly spoke. And he had his coin. I would have known if he had been in danger."

"You KNEW?! You knew, and you didn't tell me either! Since when did we all start keeping secrets from each other?"

"We were trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what!? I'm not a child, Harry Potter. I'm older than the both of you and I can handle myself. Why do you always think you need to protect me? Right now, the only thing I seem to need protection from is you and your lies!" She turned slightly, facing down the redhead. "Were you in on it too? Plotting with Harry to have Mrs. Malfoy blindside me like she did?!" Ginny stood her ground and her brown eyes flashed.

"No, I didn't realize Mrs. Malfoy would come to your office like that. And I see we didn't handle this the best but look at yourself. Your emotions have been all over the place for months. Everything that was going on with Ron, and you never wanted to talk with us about it. We didn't want to contribute to all the stress and pressure you've been putting on yourself, Mione. It may have been a stupid thing to do, but we did it because we love you!"

"Don't you dare use my failed relationship as an excuse? And tell me, Harry, when did Malfoy come into the picture too? Are you too all chummy now as well?! You realize he practically assaulted me today at the Manor!" Her voice started to break.

"He did what!?" Harry exclaimed, and in an instant, he was at her side.

"He got upset when I didn't return his owl. He was waiting for me as soon as I stepped out of the floo. And he grabbed me and demanded I tell him why I was there and what I wanted with his mother." Her anger was subsiding slightly and she her body began to shake with her tears. "I don't know what he would have done if his mother hadn't come in." Harry and Ginny lead her to the sofa, taking a seat on either side of her.

"What owl?" Harry asked. He held her hand in his and began to rub soothing circles on her back.

"He owled me yesterday after I left your office. He said we needed to talk, that was all it said, and I was still so mad at you, and, and I shucked his note and left."

"I swear I'm going to send a bat-bogie hex his way the next time I see that ferret!" Hermione chuckled softly at her friend.

"Thanks, Gin, but that won't be necessary, not if I see him first." Hermione exhaled deeply, trying to reign in her emotions and fight back the tears.

"I'm due to meet the team for drinks, but I won't be gone long, Mione. And when I get back you and I are going to talk. I promise."

Ginny squeezed her in a tight hug, then removed herself from the sofa, stopping for a moment to place a kiss on Harry's cheek and headed for the door. Hermione and Harry sat in silence for a few moments, listening as the door opened and then shut, Ginny's footsteps echoing down the hallway.

"I'll make us some tea." Harry went to stand, but Hermione refused to let go of his hand.

"No. I think I've had enough tea today," Hermione sighed. Harry smiled fondly at his best friend.

"OK. No tea, but perhaps something a bit stronger?" Hermione laughed.

"Yes. Perhaps."


	9. Chelsea Corningwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination

Hermione and Harry spent the remainder of their evening at her flat, sipping Butterbeer and talking. While Hermione was still upset, her anger was subsiding as he shared the tale of his first tea at Malfoy Manor. While his visit had been fortunately void of the Malfoy heir, his time spent with Narcissa was comically abysmal. Apparently, Tootsie had been over the moon to be serving the boy who lived tea, forcing so much upon him that he had to all but sprint to the loo. On the way back he took a wrong turn, or two, and somehow ended up in an entirely different wing of the Manor. After resigning himself to never find his way out, he had slumped against the wall and waited for death. That's how Mrs. Malfoy found him, some thirty minutes later, having followed the sounds of his head banging against the wall. He tried to take his leave then, exhausted and thoroughly embarrassed, but Mrs. Malfoy would not hear it. After that things only seemed to get worse. He spilled his tea all over his new robes, and as he jumped up from his seat, dropped his cup completely, leaving it to shatter on the floor in front of him. Tootsie was more than happy to clean up the mess, prattling on again about how honored she was to help 'Master Potter', but his nerves were completely shot. Desperate to fill the silence of the room, he rambled on and on until he had somehow managed to bring up the death of Dumbledore, the horrid conditions of Azkaban, and the Blacks' disinheritance of both Sirius and Andromeda in a single rambling sentence. Harry described it as a somewhat out-of-body experience.

"I knew I needed to shut up, but it was as if I was observing everything from above, and I just couldn't stop myself. I was a complete train wreck, Mione. But Narcissa didn't say an ill word the whole time. I figured she was just waiting for me to get it out of my system so she could show me out and have the elves scrub the entire place to rid the house of my stupidity. But later she owled me a week and asked me back. I almost didn't accept, but I made such a mess of things, I had to try to redeem myself."

As the evening went on, Ron joined them, followed by Ginny, and it felt like old times, back in the Gryffindor Commons. Harry insisted that she needed to talk to Ron. There were certainly some things she needed to get off her chest, and while she eventually agreed, she decided tonight was not the night to have that conversation. She wasn't positive that exchange would end well, and she wanted to bask in the joy and comfort of her friends.

The next day her friends insisted that Hermione get out of the flat and enjoy herself. She held them off for as long as she could, insisting she needed to work more on her proposal for Kingsley. She intended to work on it Saturday, but after her return from tea at the Manor, it was the furthest thing from her mind. Reluctantly, they promised her 2 hours of solitude before they would return and remove her from her work, with a full body bind if required. She delayed their departure an additional 45 minutes, assuring them she was 'almost done' and needed 'just one more revision'. Eventually, Ginny stormed into the room and threatened to pour her pumpkin juice all over Hermione's parchments if she didn't 'get that pretty arse of hers' out the door.

Ron, always the bottomless pit, had his stomach set on ice cream. So, despite the nip in the air, the four disapparated to the Leaky Cauldron, saying a quick hello to Tom and Hannah, before making their way into Diagon Alley.

It didn't take long for the whispers to start as they made their way down the cobblestone street to Florean Fortescue's. They had often been the subject of attention when they were together, the golden trio who defeated Lord Voldemort, but the whispers seemed exceptionally loud today. She supposed the sight of herself and Ron, walking so close together after his evening with Lavender, made quite a sight. But the observers left them to their walk, and for that she was grateful. Things didn't turn sour until after they had finished their treats and were leaving Fortescue's. Her friends wanted to stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies, having no interest in the sport, or its supplies, Hermione wanted to visit the second-hand bookshop to see if they had any interesting finds, but before she could make it through the door, her path was blocked by a leggy brunette. Hermione apologized on reflex and went to step around her, but the witch moved as well, blocking her again.

"Can I help you?" Hermione huffed. Not appreciating the woman keeping her from the sanctuary of ink and parchment just ahead.

"Actually, you can. What do you have to say to reports that your ex-fiancé has moved on so quickly with Miss Brown?" Hermione eyed the witch carefully. She was gorgeous, long black hair, smooth tanned skin, and immaculately tailored robes. She was a natural beauty, and she obviously knew it. It was evident in the way she held herself, but her smile seemed kind, despite having just intruded on Hermione's space, time, and patience. She was definitely a reporter. Who else would have the audacity to blurt out a question such as that? Hermione glanced over the witch's right shoulder and spotted a Quick-Quotes Quill, quivering in anticipation.

"I would have to say, that Ron's relationship with Miss Brown is none of your or my business and you are standing in my way. Now if you don't mind-" Hermione side-stepped, her frustration doubling as the woman again stepped with her.

"Why did you break off your engagement?" the raven-haired woman questioned the smile still irritatingly on her face.

"That's certainly none of your business, now please leave me alone," but the woman would not accept her dismissal.

"It all seems so sudden. There has to be a reason. The wizarding world and my readers have a right to know." At that last statement, Hermione turned to face the woman head on, stepping in close.

"Right?! What RIGHT does anyone have to pry into my personal life? You have no RIGHT to spread your vicious rumors and slander all over the front page. As I plainly told your colleagues at the Ministry, there's no story for you here. We were together and now we are not, but we are still friends. Now, get out of my way before I say something I'll come to regret!" From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a crowd had formed around them, and she saw the Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously. The raven-haired witch's eyes flash with excitement, and her smile promptly transformed into a smirk.

"Why, Miss Granger, what do you want to say that one might deem regrettable? Was Ron not the devoted boyfriend he appeared to be? Was there truly trouble in paradise? What was it that made you call off your engagement to one of the world's most famous wizards?" Hermione clenched her fists tight at her side, anger coursing through her veins, as she attempted to remain calm. In the distance, she could hear her friends calling her name, having difficulty reaching her through the swarms of onlookers now all around them.

"The only thing regrettable is your complete lack of decency! What is your name?" Hermione grit out through clenched teeth.

"I'm Chelsea Corningwood and I write for the Daily Profit," she beamed, visibly pleased with herself. So this was the witch who had written the article about the Auror's Ball.

"Well, Miss Corningwood, you seemed to have some propriety based on your last article, but I'm sad to say your judgment has been briefly impaired if you think for a moment this approach will gain you any favor of mine."

"So you read my article, did you?"

"Well, I standardly make it a habit of avoiding preposterous claims printed in your rubbish excuse of a newspaper, but when the integrity of people I care about comes into question, I tend to take notice." Suddenly a small hand grabbed a hold of Hermione's arm, and she spun swiftly, hand going to her wand out of reflex, but she stilled when she realized it was Ginny, having already pushed her way through the crowd.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's go, Harry and Ron are waiting. They couldn't make it through so I told them I'd retrieve you."

"Oh! Are you here with Mr. Weasley? How scandalous! Does Miss Brown know that her new boyfriend is traipsing around town with his ex-lover? My reporters will just love this." Hermione could no longer contain her anger. She spun on her heel to again face Miss Corningwood, drawing her wand and pointing it straight at her face, a curse on her lips.

"You will not print a single word of this if you know what's good for you!" The tan witch paled considerably, now looking down the end of the furious witch's wand. All around her, Hermione could hear shocked whispers and gasps as they took in the scene unfolding. Those closest to the pair took a step back but still stared in anticipation. The air around them coursing with her magic. The next thing she knew, Hermione was being pulled backward, through the throngs of people, as Ginny forced a path through the crowd and down the street to where Ron and Harry waited for them. Still, flush with fury, but knowing they should not linger, Hermione and her friends quickly made their way back down the street, heading for the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny on her left, and Ron taking a hold of her other arm.

Hermione hurriedly cast a final glanced over her shoulder as they made their retreat, checking to see if anyone had followed them. There was no sign they were being trailed, but her anger rose again and her face flushed as her brown eyes met steel grey. Standing casually against the side of a nearby building was Draco Malfoy, a smirk smeared across his pale face, and she had no doubt he had been witness to the entire debacle. He eyed her meaningfully, and then winked, before pushing from the wall, strutting the opposite direction down the street and disappearing into the lingering crowd.


	10. Parchment and Mint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination.

Monday morning Hermione had flooed to work, only to immediately be greeted with the smiling face of Chelsea Corningwood, having caught onto Hermione's schedule of arriving to work an hour earlier than expected. She was most definitely NOT the first face Hermione wanted to see. Her 'discussion' with the reporter the prior day had made the front page, along with a photo of Hermione hurrying down the street with her 3 friends, although Ginny and Harry had suspiciously been cropped from the image. She had watched herself over and over again on the front page, arm in arm with Ron as he gingerly pulled her down the street, only to then see Hermione glance over her shoulder and blush, or it least it looked like a blush. In actuality, they had captured the moment she spotted Malfoy, and her face was flush with anger and frustration, but the readers didn't know that. It looked like a blush.

_RECONSILLIATION ON THE HORIZON?_

That had been the morning's headline. The story had consisted primarily of eye-witness accounts of their trip to Diagon Alley. These accounts varied. Some reported seeing them holding hands and tenderly embracing each other, clearly in love and back together again. Others bore witness to a bitter iciness between the two ex-lovers, not a word spoken to each other, obviously still upset over their breakup. One nameless witch claimed Ron was flirting with her in Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Hermione had to concede that there was a chance that one was true. Miss Corningwood had not made comment on the altercation between the two herself, which had surprised Hermione greatly, but she had no qualms about reporting others' comments on it. Everyone interviewed had gleefully agreed that Hermione would have hexed the 'dear' reporter, had Ginny not intervened. They painted her as some hot-headed lunatic. As if she was casually walking down the street and then decided to draw her wand on some poor unsuspecting bystander. Ugh! The raven-haired witch had offered to 'set the record straight' for her readers if Hermione would consent to an exclusive interview, even stating Hermione could read the article before printing...all 'at her _convenience'_. Hermione doubted the offer was sincere, and bolted to the lifts as quickly as possible, eager to be rid of the woman before she did or said anything else to make her appear more mentally unstable. She easily out-maneuvered the unsuspecting witch, who was dressed in an incredibly tight skirt and stiletto heels.

Her morning had been plagued with reporters stalking the atrium and owls bearing nothing but bad news and demands. Three more of her perspective contributors had written her back, all claiming various reasons as to why they were 'currently unable' to contribute any funds to S.P.E.W. The pompous prats. They all thought they were too good for S.P.E.W. and for her. The Dark Lord may have fallen, but there were still lingering perceptions of prejudice and superiority everywhere within the wizarding world. It was blind misconceptions such as these that fueled the war, and it was also for that reason that Hermione sought to break that world apart. She was pleased when Kingsley Shacklebolt had been elected Minister, knowing that he wished the same thing as she, but it was a long road to rectify centuries of corruption and hate. And that was just within the Ministry. Hermione knew her cause was just, so she did her best not to let it get her down, but she NEEDED financial support. Above all else, the Wizingamot valued and respected two things, power and money. She didn't have power, she held respect in certain circles, but unfortunately, her brand of respect did not equate to power in their eyes. So, without power, she needed money. They would listen to money. If they saw that the witches and wizards who DID hold power valued and respected her cause enough to provide her with funds, she had a shot at legitimizing S.P.E.W. and implementing the much-needed laws to force house elf rights into the new millennia. Unfortunately, the majority of her owls were about her relationship with Ron. Reporters and the public both demanding answers as to why they split up why she broke his heart. She was shocked to find a howler from one of Ron's particularly 'enthusiastic' fans, appalled she broke his heart, and then continued to string him along with her affections. The mad witch demanded she leave Ron alone, so he could finally move on and find a 'suitable' witch to marry. Merlin, the whole world had gone mad! The last letter she opened was from some self-righteous wizard, who outlined in graphic detail why he would be happy to help her mend her broken heart. He even explained how _willing_ he was to disregard her blood status and that they should arrange a meeting at Hermione's earliest _convenience_. That ended her patience. Her resolve snapped as she _incendio'ed_ the letter and stormed from her office. Press-be-damned, she needed some air.

Just as she expected, stepping off the lifts into the atrium, reporters were still loitering exactly where she left them this morning. A few of them pestering Ministry workers as they passed by, asking for statements on this or that. But the moment they caught sight of her, they swarmed. Hermione held her head high and proceeded to march straight through them. Her hand gripped her wand beneath her cloak, making her feel secure and safe as she was engulfed in the sea of people. It didn't take long for them to sense her fury, and the more intelligent of them stepped away, giving her a wider berth as her hair again frizzed under the swell of her magic. She was almost to the apparition point when she came face-to-face with none other than Chelsea Corningwood, again.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger. Have you given any more thought to my proposal this morning?" This witch seemed to be everywhere. Hermione wondered briefly if Corningwood had somehow obtained an illegal trace on her. She put that idea to the back of her mind, she would investigate that possibility later, once she had dismissed her and gotten some much-needed air.

As surely as it will rain in England, the persistent Miss Corningwood was waiting on Hermione when she returned from her break, this time determined to chase her through half of the Atrium, through the throngs of people coming and going. After hiding behind a column, finally shaking her new shadow, Kingsley had appeared, and for a moment she worried she might have to hex the wizard after he uttered her most hated word. However, she received good news and decided to share it with Harry, before heading to her own office. She quietly hummed as she made her way along the familiar halls of the MLE. Things were finally looking up.

Still humming, Hermione opened the office door without thought, only to walk promptly into a wall, and froze. It was a warm wall that smelled of parchment, mint, and, broom wax? The combined scent was oddly familiar.

"Granger?" The wall spoke! Since when did walls talk, even in the magical world. "I know you've finally ridden yourself of the ginger oaf, but that doesn't mean you need to start flinging yourself at eligible bachelors." Suddenly her mind began to work again, and she became painstakingly aware of what was happening. This was no wall. This was a man she had slammed up against, and for some reason was still clinging too. She could feel his muscles twitch beneath her fingertips as she continued to breathe in that intoxicating smell.

"Granger…" the wall man all but growled. That voice. Oh no! She knew that voice. Not him. Anyone but him. Merlin this was humiliating! She needed to move! But if she moved she would have to face him. This man she hated but had spent the last two minutes inadvertently groping. With all the courage and anger she could muster, she pushed against him, straightened her arms and launching herself backward. She stumbled only slightly before regaining her bearings, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. With a deep breath, she raised her chin, looking straight into those piercing grey eyes she knew were waiting. Her gaze didn't falter and she prayed her face conveyed her utter disgust at their prior predicament. His eyes bore into her own as he sneered down at her, his nose crinkling slightly. Neither spoke. Neither blinked. The only noise, the tick tick ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Ahem!" Remembering they were not alone, Hermione took another few steps back, bringing the rest of the room into view. Behind his desk, Harry sat with a look of horror on his face, like he had just walked in on Snape and McGonagall snogging in a broom closet. His glasses were in his hand, it appeared he had been cleaning them with his shirt sleeve again, but froze at her intrusion and subsequent sniffing and groping of one Draco Malfoy.

"Do you often make it a habit of barging through closed Ministry doors? I recognize you don't much understand traditional wizarding etiquette, but there's such a thing called knocking. I understand it's quite common, even in the muggle world." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Hermione turned her head, hand on her hips, ready to hex this man off of the planet.

"HA! What's this? Purebloods lessons in etiquette? That's rich, coming from the likes of you! You've never uttered a polite sentence in your life, you twitchy little ferret!" This time Malfoy did growl. And as he clenched his jaw, he took one long step, bringing his body a mere inch away from her own. The proximity forcing Hermione to turn her head upward at an uncomfortable angle in order to not break eye contact. She wanted to step away, to put more distance between them and alleviate the strain on her neck, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He was challenging her, she knew, trying to intimidate her with his proximity and stature. She would not be the one to back down.

"You know nothing about me, Granger. Don't pretend that you do, or care to," he spat. "And I have it on good authority from many young witches that I can be exceptionally accommodating, given proper incentive." Hermione watched his face as that sly smirk spread across his features, his left eyebrow slightly cocked, pleased with himself beyond measure. She realized he was just trying to push her buttons. Using innuendo and the awkwardness of their proximity to get to her. Make her step away. She would not give him that, but she couldn't stop it when her pulse began to race, and her face flushed. He didn't miss it either, and she heard a deep, masculine chuckle escape from his chest. She cocked her eye at him, questioning. She had never heard him laugh at all. It was an odd sound, coming from him. Then a wicked smile spread across his face, he stepped back, shaking his head at her in amusement. Clearly seeing her involuntary reactions as a victory.

"Potter." Malfoy turned his head to address the dark-haired wizard. "I suppose we will finish this at a later date. Owl my office and let me know when is convenient." Hermione scoffed. Convenient! Harry didn't speak. Turning his attention back to the flushed, bushy-haired witch, he continued to smile that insufferable smile. It looked wrong on his face. It looked...dangerous.

"We still have matters to discuss, Miss Granger, or have you forgotten? I assure you, I have not."

"I still don't know what you-" But Malfoy interrupted before she could express her frustration and confusion.

"This is a private matter, Granger, one that is not meant to be had within the ministry. The walls here have eyes and ears, you know, especially when it comes to matters regarding reformed deatheaters." His tone was low and serious now. And he had leaned in closer to her, his words ghosted over her neck, his breath causing a chill to run down her spine.

"Are you?" she questioned. "Reformed, that is."

There was a flash of something on his face, she presumed anger before it was then schooled back into a neutral expression, the clenching and unclenching of his jaw the only indicator of the emotion underneath.

"Well, of course, Miss Granger. I've been re-educated and learned the errors of my way, just as the Ministry intended." His words sounded thick and slow, but sweet as if coated with honey. "But don't you worry, I haven't gone all Hufflepuff just yet. You won't find me freeing house elves and hugging werewolves like you do. Having been on the losing side of the war, I know a lost cause when I see one. By the way, tell me, have you had much luck securing funds for that pitiful excuse of an organization of yours. What was it called again?" He brought his hand to his face, tapping a single long finger against his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Oh yes! Spew! Horrid name. I've heard your campaigning hasn't taken off as you would like. Is the pristine name of our brightest witch not as golden as it used to be?"

Hermione's blood was boiling. It was one thing to try to intimidate her, but another thing entirely to demean her life's ambition. And of course, he learned she hadn't found the financial backing she needed for her proposal. Of course. He ran in the same circles of society as those who had rejected her request for donations. The slimy git probably had something to do with their quick dismissals. How dare he! Her body stiffened as she gripped her wand beneath her cloak. Seemingly displeased at not inciting more of a reaction from the witch, he snarled and went to step around her, but not before throwing one more jab her way.

"It's a wonder the Weasel lasted as long as he did with such an insufferable witch," and then he strode purposefully through Harry's door.

Before she could think better of it, she silently cast a tripping jinx, spinning on her heel just in time to watch him stumble into a passing wizard. Once he had regained his footing, at the detriment of his pride, he began stalking toward her, but Hermione was too quick. With a flick of her wand, she slammed Harry's office door in his face and whispered a quick _muffiado_. Take that Draco Malfoy!


	11. The Life Debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination
> 
> A Shorty Chapter.  
> I know Rowling has stated before in interviews that Draco owed no life debt to Harry after the war, but I thought it was a good way for Draco and Harry to form some sort of 'relationship' post war. They aren't friends, but Slytherins don't really have friends, or do they? Hmmmmm. Read on!

"Well, that's was, er, something?" With Malfoy gone, Harry had ultimately found his voice. Returning his glasses to his face, he ran a hand through his messy hair and slumped into his chair. Hermione walked to stand in front of him, returning her wand to its holster at her side. Crossing her arm, she faced her best friend, a stern expression on her face.

"Care to share why Draco Malfoy was in your office?"

"It was about the life debt," Harry sighed.

"Life debt?" Hermione questioned. She reflected back to her conversation with Narcissa at the manor. She had mentioned that Draco owed Harry a life debt, but she hadn't considered much about it at the time. "You mean when you saved him in the Room of Requirement?" Harry sighed against pinched the bridge of his nose, he didn't like discussing this. He found these involuntary bonds were archaic and, quite frankly, inconvenient. But he wasn't about to tell that her Hermione, especially in those words.

"Not exactly. I had no idea at the time, seeing as I was preoccupied with horcuxes and not dying. I'll give you the short version. It would seem that originally, I really owed a life debt to Malfoy."

"You WHAT?! But, how?" Hermione blanched and took a seat in the chair opposite Harry.

"Well, initially I became indebted to Malfoy when he refused to identify me at the Manor. The fact is that he knew who I was. And as he purposefully denied it, it was enough to envoys the life debt, seeing as how Voldemort would have been summoned and he surely would have killed me since we were unarmed and outnumbered. When I saved him from the _Fiendfyre_ in the Room of Requirement that sufficiently relayed my debt to him."

"So, you're no longer indebted to him. The bond should be severed."

"No." Suddenly, something clicked. And Hermione thought back to that day.

> _LET'S GO!" Harry yelled, and he, Ron, and Hermione gathered the Cloak tightly around themselves and pelted, heads down, through the midst of the fighters, slipping a little in pools of Snargaluff juice, toward the top of the marble staircase into the entrance hall. "I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm Draco, I'm on your side!" Draco was on the upper landing, pleading with another masked Death Eater. Harry Stunned the Death Eater as they passed. Malfoy looked around, beaming, for his savior, and Ron punched him from under the Cloak. Malfoy fell backward on top of the Death Eater, his mouth bleeding, utterly bemused. "And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two- faced bastard!" Ron yelled._

"Merlin, Harry!"

"That's what I said." Harry leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

"So what?!" Hermione suddenly shouted. Throwing her arms up, exhausted. "So what if Draco Malfoy owes you a life debt? I don't see how that's any real concern of yours. Or his, really. We aren't at war anymore."

"Exactly, Mione. Malfoy is indebted to me without knowing when, where, or even how he will be obliged to repay it. And from what he's told me, he WILL have to repay the debt. It doesn't have to be accomplished by him saving my life. It could be something else beneficial to me, something the bond will oblige him to do, against his will if needed. And this is Draco Malfoy. He's out from under someone's thumb for the first time in his LIFE, Mione. He hoped he was free from this kind of pressure, and he can't stand the fact the life debt might force him to act against his wishes in order to fulfill it, or allow the debt to be passed onto another member of his family, should he die before the magic is satisfied?"

It made sense, she supposed, that Malfoy would be eager to find a way to sever the bond as soon as possible. She knew that if she were in his place, owing such a debt to her enemy, she would do everything she could so that it could not be used against her. Maybe she should study life debt and she if she can find a quicker solution to satisfy the debt. For Harry's sake, NOT for Malfoy. She knew it was ancient magic, and no one had yet uncovered any options beyond performing a sufficient deed. But she also expected not many witches or wizards felt compelled to struggle against it.

"So, is this how you started having tea with BOTH Malfoys?"

"Basically. It was around the second or third time I was visiting Narcissa. She invited me to stay for dinner. I accepted without thinking about it. I guess I had kind of forgotten Draco lived there too and would be joining us. After dinner, Narcissa excused herself and Malfoy invited me for a drink in his study. He demanded to know if I was going to use the life debt against him. I was totally confused, Mione. I hadn't given one thought to it. I told him I wouldn't. I told him I would forgive the debt, do whatever I needed so that he didn't owe me anything, but obviously, that's not how that works. At first, I was a little frightful for my life. I haven't got any real family. If I died before Ginny and got married or had kids, the debt ends with me. There's no one else for the magical bond to transfer to."

"Malfoy is a lot of things, but he's no killer. The whole of England knows that after the war."

"Yea, I know. But it didn't stop the thought from entering my mind. You know, I really thought that life would be less complicated after the war." Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"You know, me too!"

"So, what was it that brought you to my door this time? You know, before you and Malfoy decided to hold a battle of wills in the middle of my office." Glad to have something more pleasant to talk about, Hermione began to fill Harry in on her conversation with Shacklebolt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt detailing Harry saving Draco's life is from J.K's Deathly Hallows. Chapter 32. I don't own it, I just enjoy reading it


	12. Butterbeer and Wrackspurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

The rest of the week was blissfully uneventful even though Miss Corningwood continued her unrelenting mission to pester. It seemed the rest of the reporters had grown weary of the chase, and she hoped it would only be a matter of time before Miss Corningwood did as well. Hermione threw herself into her work after her conversation with Shacklebolt Monday. The Wizingamot had requested to move the date of her appearance forward, leaving her slight less than a fortnight to go over every detail of her proposal and somehow pull money out of thin air. Harry offered to provide her some financial backing, stating that his title as "The Chosen One" might carry enough weight to demonstrate support of her cause, but Hermione had refused. She knew they would only assume S.P.E.W. didn't have enough of its own merit to draw in investors outside of her own friends. She panicked initially when Shacklebolt informed her of the change of date. Immediately focused on all that remained to do to prepare, and now with much less time, but Kingsley had reassured her that he was confident in her abilities, and that it was a good sign that the Wizingomot had wanted to hear her proposal sooner. It meant they were interested in what she had to say. That information had changed her outlook immensely. She just needed to find her funding.

After talking through her difficulties acquiring supporters one evening over dinner, Ginny suggested a different approach. Instead of owling major companies and wealthy investors directly, maybe she should put the information about her cause out for the public to see and allow individual investors to come to her. It made sense, not to mention it involved a lot less work on Hermione's part, should it work. Instead of hanging the future of S.P.E.W. on a few large donations, an influx of smaller donations from the community would still show support for improving the working conditions of house elves. Ginny had immediately owled Luna, The Quibbler being the only outlet the women trusted to accurately convey Hermione's message. The Ravenclaw wrote a wonderful article, and Hermione managed to secure an impressive amount of her needed funds. Overjoyed, Hermione decreed that they celebrate Friday evening, and Ginny, wholeheartedly agreed. It was nearly 7:00, and Hermione finished up the last of her work, anxious to meet Ginny, Luna, and Lavender at the Three Broomsticks. She genuinely needed a drink. Gathering her things, she was retrieving her cloak from its hook when she heard a knock on her door. Who in the world was still here at this hour? Whoever it was, they were going to have to make an appointment because she was already running late. Putting on her cloak and snuffing the candles in her office, Hermione opened her door, and her good mood was effectively ruined. In her doorway stood Draco Malfoy, wrapped head to toe in black, his mask of indifference firmly in place.

"What do you want, Malfoy? I'm in no mood for you now, and besides, I'm late to meet some friends for drinks."

"Really Granger," he drawled lazily, " is that big brain of yours so full of facts you've taken to forgetting recent conversations?"

"I only remember things that are of importance to me, and whatever it is you think we need to discuss didn't make the cut." Hermione attempted to push past the wizard, but his imposing form somehow managed to fill the entire doorway. Irritating git. With a huff, she stomped her foot in frustration. She just wanted him to leave her alone. She had never desired any Malfoys in her life and now she had two. "Fine! Owl my office next week and I'll set up an appointment. You can come in, say your piece and then be on your way. I'm quite busy." Hermione hated that she was conceding to even meet him, but maybe they could clear the air quickly and go back to pretending the other didn't exist. She really needed that drink now.

"Oh yes, I did read something about a desperate plea for money in that Quibbler rag. I guess it was only a matter of time before you began begging for galleons on behalf of your cause."

"I wasn't begging, Malfoy! And while the likes of you might not see the need to improve the state of those less fortunate, that doesn't mean the rest of the wizarding world isn't better than you!" She spat the words with as much disdain as she could muster.

"Better than a Malfoy?" he scoffed. "There is no one better." He seemed to preen under his own praise.

"If you're quite done stroking your own ego, I'll just be going now." She made to move past him again.

"No, I don't think you will. You've already said you're running late. I'm sure your friends won't miss you." His tall body still blocking her exit, Hermione stomped her foot again, this time landing it directly on the wizard's foot. Malfoy stumbled, hopping back on one foot and cursing under his breath. Hermione quickly slipped past him, through the small opening her assault provided and made a B-line toward the lifts.

"This isn't over Granger!" Malfoy shouted from behind her, but she didn't spare him a second glance or a response as she made the last turn out of the offices and stepped onto the lift, a real smile firmly planted on her face.

Two hours and three butterbeers later, Hermione was enjoying the easy conversation among her friends at the Three Broomsticks. They had shared a laugh at Malfoy's expense as she described how she made her escape from the bouncing ferret. Noticing their drinks once again empty, Hermione made her way through the crowded pub to fetch them another round. As she was returned to their table in the back corner, she noticed a shock of brilliant white hair next to Lavender and she froze. Although his back was to her, there was no mistaking that hair for anyone else. Her jaw dropped as she watched in shock as he leaned over, whispering something in Lavender's ear. The blonde witch blushed and then giggled incessantly at his words.

She sought out Ginny, sitting across the table. They locked eyes and Hermione shot her a furiously questioning glance. Ginny shook her head, mouthing a quick 'I don't know how this happened'. Steeling her nerves, she continued to the table, levitating their drink order in front of her, only to note the fresh drinks already in front of her friends. Summoning every inch of her Gryffindor courage, she levitated each of the now unneeded drinks on the table and poked, rather than tapped the blonde wizard on his shoulder.

"Excuse me. You're in my seat, ferret," she spoke tightly.

"Why, Granger," the blonde spoke, mischief flashing in his eye. "Fancy seeing you here." He gracefully stood, stepping to the side and pulling out the chair slightly, motioning for her to take her seat.

"You followed me here!" she accused, and she and less-than-gracefully resumed her earlier seat. Hermione didn't drink often, and even after only three drinks, she was feeling the alcohol's effects.

"Followed you? Surely not! I was simply having a drink with a few of my friends and couldn't help but notice a table full of beautiful witches. I couldn't resist buying such a lovely group as this a drink." Beside her, she could hear Lavender swooning at the compliment. Traitor! Ginny eyed him cautiously, and Luna smiled absent-mindedly at them all.

"Well, thank you for the drinks. Now, best slither back to your friends, lest they forget how to breathe without your instruction." As if on cue, two wizards appeared by Malfoy's side. The brown-haired wizard looked familiar, but Hermione couldn't remember his name. He was tall and thin, with hollowed cheeks and a nose that looked too small for his face, but his robes screamed 'wealth and privilege'. The other wizard was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome with black hair and sinfully smooth mocha-colored skin. He had high cheekbones and as he gazed at her through his long slanted brown eyes, her skin flushed.

"Speak of the devils!" Malfoy exclaimed heartily, clapping his arms on each of their backs. It was a friendlier demeanor than she had ever witnessed from the man. "Ladies, you remember Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini from Hogwarts?" The two Slytherins smiled broadly and made a show of bowing elegantly. "Theo, Blaise, allow me to reintroduce Misses Granger, Brown, Lovegood, and Weasley. It is still Weasley, correct?" Now speaking straight to Ginny.

"Yes," Ginny replied quickly. Hermione noticed that Nott's attention had been drawn away from the introductions, and as she followed his gaze, she saw Luna, Spectrespeacs on her face, examining the direction from which the men had appeared. _Thank Merlin for Luna_ , Hermione thought. These wizards wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near her and her oddities, and the sight of her in those glasses was sure to send them back to the depths of hell whence they came.

"You should really join us. It appears Wrackspurts have taken up in your previous booth. You will never be able to keep your heads clear enough to hold a conversation over there." What!? And with that, she removed her glasses and placed them back in her robes. "We've plenty of extra seats here, anyway."

"How convenient," Zabini spoke silkily. Moving to slide into the seat next to Luna. Nott took the empty seat to his left, and Malfoy, much to Lavender's dismay ignored the open seat to her right and instead, pulled a chair from a nearby table and placed it on the end between Hermione and Ginny. Hermione wrinkled her brown as she observed him, sitting down with all the superiority of a king taking his place on his throne. He cast a sideways glance to her before continuing his conversation with Ginny.

"So, when's the big event? I want to know when I should expect my invitation." Ginny laughed.

"Ha! What makes you think you're on the guest list?"

"Oh come now, Weasley. Indeed your husband-to-be has informed you we are on a friendly enough basis. And I'm sure your female guests would appreciate you providing them with something handsome to look at, besides yourself, of course." Oh, he was laying it on thick. Hermione didn't know what game Malfoy was playing, but she knew Ginny could more than handle herself, so she picked up her drink and turned to Lavender, only to see her openly flirting with Zabini and Nott. Throat feeling suddenly dry, she downed half of her drink as swiftly as she could, setting the rest down a bit harder than she should. She heard a soft chuckle across the table and looked up to meet the amused eyes of Nott. Without breaking the eye contact with the Slytherin, she returned the mug to her lips and finished the drink off, watching in amusement as his eyes widened marginally. Unceremoniously wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she turned in her seat and reached for another drink. This was going to be a long night!


	13. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing except an overactive imagination.   
> I just want to remind you lovely readers of something I mentioned on my first chapter. I am trying to keep this story as close to the books as possible. That being said, there are some significant differences between some events in the books and the movies. So, this chapter is going to follow the events of JK's wonderfully written books rather than the film adaptations. Just going to leave that right here for later :) Thanks!

Hermione was mad. She was on her way to being drunk, and she was mad. Her lion's den had been invaded by snakes, and half of her friends seemed to have missed the memo that A- this was supposed to be a girls' night, and B- they were Gryffindors, and Gryffindors did not like Slytherins. She realized it seemed childish, but she was in a childish mood now. Draco Malfoy and his cronies had invaded their table. And what was worse, they were being quite civil.

Ginny was her sole ally. Luna and Lavender, having immediately fallen prey to the Slytherin trio's charms, were completely enthralled in conversation. Lavender hung on the snakes' every word, giggling and flipping her hair every 10 seconds. She was fond of the girl, but Merlin, she was still a shameless flirt. She also _insisted_ that Draco come sit next to her so that he didn't ignore his friends. As his attempts to schmooze his way into Ginny's good graces failed, he ultimately obliged her, but not before shooting Hermione a wink. Grazing his hand over Hermione's shoulders and sliding behind her to the empty seat, she bitte the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood. With Malfoy no longer between them, Hermione leaned forward to Ginny.

"What in Merlin's name happened when I was getting drinks!?" She could not believe this was happening. She fought her baser instincts that told her she should hex them into oblivion, or punch the slimy git in the face...again.

"I honestly don't know. It all happened so fast! One minute Luna was telling us about her latest trip to America, the next the great bouncing ferret was in your seat, offering us drinks and being disturbingly charming!"

"Charming! Really, Gin? How many drinks did you all have before I got here?" she rolled her eyes. Knowing Ginny and Lavender, it had been quite a few drinks.

"Do you really think he followed you here?" Hermione chanced a glance toward the blonde to ensure his attention was still otherwise focused.

"It's no coincidence. This is Malfoy. Everything he does is a calculated move. I don't understand this one though. Does he honestly believe he can come here and _charm_ me into talking with him? All he's succeeded in doing is irritating me."

"Maybe he isn't here to charm you, maybe his intent IS to irritate you." Hermione's mind started to race. Ginny had a good point. Malfoy understood enough about her to recognize she wasn't one of those women who could be easily swayed with a few pretty words and a smoldering look. Besides, he had barely spoken to her since introductions were made. Ginny was right, she was sure of it. He had seen her resolve falter earlier, at the Ministry! And then he came here. Probably hoping that by the end of the night he would have grated on her nerves so much she would finally cave, just to get him out of her site. It was devious. It was evil. It was…. brilliant. Damn him! Noticing the gears turning in her friends head, Ginny had returned her attention to the conversation at the other end of the table.

Hermione needed to think of a plan. Malfoy declared war, and she couldn't let him win. When faced with pure evil, there were always two immediate reactions, fight or flight. Her instinct had been to fight. She hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing. But they weren't in school any longer, and she really preferred not to see her reaction make the front page of the Prophet again. So a fight was out of the question. Flight? She would NOT let Draco run her out of the pub and away from a planned night with her friends. No, she had to stay, and show him she was indifferent to him. Yes, that was the best way of beating Malfoy. She would hit him where it hurt...his pride. No one ignored a Malfoy. So how would she put up with the ferret for an entire evening? She would drink until his presence no longer bothered her! Yes, that is what she would do. It was a great plan! Wasn't it? Somewhere in the back of her mind, lights and bells were going off, signaling danger ahead, but she ignored them.

_Tomorrow-morning-Hermione_ would say that the fact THIS seemed the best course of action, meant she already drank too much, but _right-now-Hermione_ had already set her mind to her task. She reached for her mug only to remember it was sadly empty. She needed another drink. Resolutely, she stood and headed back to the bar without a word to her friends. No one was paying her any mind, anyway. She made her way through the crowd, a little wobblier than she would like to admit, and ordered another butterbeer and a firewhiskey for herself. Screw her supposed friends. They could get their own drinks. Or better yet, their new favorite snakes could get them instead. She smiled triumphantly as her drinks appeared in front of her, ignoring the fuzziness of her brain and the bells and lights still flashing in the background.

"Stepping up your game, I see." Hermione sucked in a breath as she suddenly felt the warmth of his body behind hers. He was close. His breath was warm on her neck, making her shiver involuntarily. Too close. Damn! He hadn't missed her reaction either because the sound of a gruff chuckle filled her ears, and she could feel his body shaking slightly in time with the masculine sound.

"Well it's going to take a lot of alcohol to put up with you and your goons" she bit out over her shoulder. She needed to get away from him. His closeness was putting her off her game and on the defensive. She needed to turn the tables around.

"They aren't goons. They are my friends." His voice was smooth and even, and if it had been any other man, she would say it sounded seductive, but this wasn't any other man, so instead, she determined it was unwelcomed.

"Can Slytherins even have friends?" She turned to face him now, the motion forcing his body further away from her own and allowing her to regain her composure.

"Of course. I have _all sorts_ of friends, Granger." She could feel a flush spreading across her face and chest as he looked her up and down appraisingly. Damnit.

"What's your endgame here Malfoy? Stalk me. Ruin my evening. And eventually, I'll talk to you about, what? Why I accepted an invitation for tea with your mother? This is the most ridicu- " But again he didn't allow her to finish.

"Exactly. And it's working, isn't it?" She threw back the glass of firewhiskey, cringing as the amber liquid burned down her throat and into her chest. Gah! Why did she ever drink this stuff? She took a large gulp of her butterbeer, trying to rid the taste from her mouth. She must have made a horrible face as well because just then, Malfoy burst out laughing. It was deep and masculine and angered her even more.

"You don't do this much, do you?"

"Do what?"

"Drink."

"No. And I wouldn't need to either if you weren't an egomaniac who believes your wishes should take precedence over everything else in my life! News flash Malfoy! I. Don't. Care." She punctuated each word with a firm poke of her finger to the middle of his chest. "I don't care about you. I don't care about what you have to say. I don't care about Zabini. Or Nott. Or the wrackspurts at your booth. Or the Daily Prophet. Or Witch Weekly. Or what anyone else here, or there, or anywhere thinks about what I should be doing." She had begun flailing her arms around to emphasize her point, now defiantly drunk. Point. Point. What was her point? She did have a point. What was it? Malfoy. Yes. She hated Draco Malfoy.

"What is the big deal about me accepting your mother's invitation anyway? It was only tea. Or were you just concerned that I might get some of my _dirty blood_ all over your precious pureblood home? Well it's too late for that, isn't it?" She was shouting now, and Draco's mask was back in place, his calculating eyes watching Hermione's every move. "Your floors were contaminated with my blood years ago. Tell me, Malfoy, did the sight of it make you sick? My _dirty dirty_ blood? Do you think I WANTED to go back there again? That I WANTED to visit the place your aunt gave me this?!" She grabbed the collar of her shirt, yanking it to the side and fully exposing her neck. Malfoy swallowed slowly. He could see the long thin mark which marred her smooth flesh, as scarlet red as the day his Aunt Bella had given it to her. Her eyes bore into his, daring him to reply. But he didn't speak as he looked away. Instead, his long nimble fingers began uncuffing his left shirt sleeve. Taking his time, he then rolled it up, exposing his forearm to her. Hermione gasped and released her collar, her hand moving to cover her mouth in shock. In the middle of his perfect ivory skin was a mottled scar, the faded image of the dark mark. It wasn't bright and clear, as she had seen on the arms of other deatheaters during the war, including his father. It looked burned and healed over, the new skin forming taut raised ridges. It reminded her of a cattle brand. She wanted to reach out and touch it, for some reason but kept her hand firmly planted on her lips. Malfoy had been a deatheater, of course. Everyone knew that. But while Harry and Ron were certain he had taken the mark sixth year, she had remained firm in her belief to the contrary, if for no other reason than for the fact that he was so young. They had never gotten a look at his left arm back then, and she supposed, never having any proof to the contrary, she had gone on with her life with the same assumption. How could his parents have let this happen? He had just been a boy, and only those in Voldemort's inner-most circle had taken the mark. Malfoy watched her through his lashes, taking in all the different emotions that crossed her face.

"We all have our scars, Granger." And then suddenly he was gone, lost in the crowd as she stood there, jaw slack, a strange pain in her chest. She made her way slowly back over to her friends, expecting to find Malfoy, but he wasn't there. She slammed her mug down as she sat, and five sets of eyes shot up. They looked confused. Zabini and Nott looked past her, and then searched the room questioningly, but it was Luna who spoke for them.

"Where is Draco?"

"I don't know. And I don't care." Tears were threatening her eyes, out of anger or sadness, she didn't know. Merlin, she shouldn't have drunk that firewhiskey so fast. Suddenly the two remaining wizards stood.

"We should really take off. It's getting late." Nott's voice was smooth and calm, but his eyes relayed a contradicting emotion. Zabini was already moving toward the exit, determination in his step. "Thank you for a lovely evening." Nott continued, as he took Lavender's hand in his, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. And then he too was gone. The four witches sat in silence for a moment, before Ginny took Hermione's hand.

"I'm fine, Gin. I just, I think I need to rest. It's been a long week, you know." With a quick goodbye to her friends, Hermione pushed her way through the pub and out into the street. Once she was free from the noise and heat of the pub, she took a deep, shuttering breath, and with a sharp twist, disapparated home.


	14. Damn You Malfoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination.  
> I hope you all liked the last chapter. Hermione really needs to get her emotions under control, don't you think? Too much pent up anger swirling below the surface. I wonder, oh I wonder when she might just explode?

Hermione awoke early the next morning with a pounding headache. She was never drinking again. How did Lavender and Ginny do this every weekend? She was certain her head was going to explode, sending bits of brain matter and frizzy hair all over the walls of her bedroom. She sat up slowly, fighting back the wave of nausea that swept over her at the unwelcome movement. Kneading her temples, she made her way to the kitchen in search of a pepper-up potion to stop the incessant pounding in her head and ears. She removed the stopper and tilted the vile up, swallowing the liquid, but the pounding didn't stop. As the potion took effect and the haze lifted, she realized the noise was no longer coming from inside her head, but the front door. Who in Merlin's name was at her door this early on a Saturday? She grabbed a dressing gown from her room and headed to the door. Swinging it open wide, she stared wide-eyed at the man daring to wake her from her drunken slumber.

"You look like shit, Granger."

She watched in horror as Malfoy pushing past her and and strode forward into her flat, down the hallway to her living room. Draco Malfoy was at her house. He was IN her house. Not that she had given it too much thought last night, but she assumed she would never see the blonde wizard again after he disappeared from the pub, the picture of his face, as he laid the proof of his sins bare before her, burned into her mind. For a moment his mask had been completely forgotten, and she had seen raw and uninhibited emotion present on his face. His steel grey eyes filled with regret, and the way his features softened at that moment, made her question everything about the man. But why had he done it? Perhaps it was all a game. Some sort of manipulative tactic? But if he had orchestrated such a show on her behalf, why had his friends seemed worried? They were Slytherins, 'any means to achieve their end,' right? But she doubted Malfoy had the capacity to fake such emotions, and He would never want to appear so vulnerable. She couldn't wrap her head around it. Was she trying too hard to see some good in him after coming face to face with his dark mark? Regardless the bit of humanity she thought she saw in him last night, he was now back to his usual arrogant ways. How dare he show up, unwelcome and uninvited at her door, waltzing right in as if he owned the place. She slammed the door, fuming as she marched to meet him.

"What the hell are you doing here Malfoy? How do you even know where I live?"

"Money buys most everything these days, Granger. Here." He shoved a takeaway cup into her hands.

"What's this?"

"Coffee. I figured you would need it this morning before we had our little chat. And before you say anything, you might as well concede. You're in no state to put up much of a fight right now. Are you aware you only have one shoe on?" He raised a mocking eyebrow at her as he took a sip from his own cup. Hermione looked at her feet and sighed, realizing he was right. Kicking the offending shoe off and into the corner, she rounded the sofa and sat down with a huff. He was acting awful calm, especially with such harsh words exchanged the night before. Was he here to finish what they started last night? She was too tired for this, but Malfoy seemed determined to have it out. He was watching her, waiting for her to reply. He was already here. She had her wand and ventured even in her disheveled state she could take him in a duel.

"Ten minutes, then I want you out of my apartment and out of my life, Malfoy."

"Fair enough. Now, what are your intentions with my mother?"

"You know, you sound like an over-protective father. I don't plan to date her if that's what you're suggesting." For once Hermione was the one who smirked. She took a long sip of her coffee and sighed in contentment.

"I know you are not courting her. She's not your type. You prefer young, dumb, and ginger. What I want to know, is what type of relationship you intend to have with her, and for how long. My mother is in a delicate state since those baboons at the Ministry decided to lock her away in the Manor! She has reached out to you, welcomed you into our home. She is inviting you to become a part of her life and I will NOT have you, with your brash attitudes and stubbornness enter her life only to destroy it."

"How on Earth could I destroy your mother's life?"

"The details are not important. I need to know. Was this some sort of sympathy visit? Is she going to be one of your projects? Your charity causes? 'Hermione Granger, Brightest witch of her age and Gryffindor's Golden Girl befriends a Malfoy.' It makes great headlines, no doubt. But Malfoys do not need pity, and we do not accept your charity." Never had Hermione heard words spoken with such venom.

"How Dare You! Who do you think you are?! You assault me at the Manor, corner me at my office, STALK me to the pub, and now you barge into my home, uninvited, and accuse me of this!"

"You have to admit, it's all quite convenient. This all started the moment your breakup with the weasel became front page news and-"

"Convenient! Convenient? Has the entire world gone bloody mad, or have I?" Hermione stood abruptly and began pacing in front of the blonde. "Everyone keeps saying everything is so convenient when nothing is at all. There is not a single thing in my life that has been convenient. Not. A. Single. Thing! It wasn't convenient when I started exhibiting a magic that I didn't understand. It wasn't convenient when I became part of a world I never knew existed. It wasn't convenient that because of that, I was thought to be a lesser species. It wasn't convenient that people kept trying to kill the first person I befriended. It wasn't convenient that we were all caught up in the middle of a war when we were only children! It wasn't convenient that I had to wipe my existence from my parents' minds to try to keep them safe. It wasn't convenient when I fell in love with one of my best friends, and it CERTAINLY wasn't convenient when that love wasn't enough. And it was NOT convenience that brought your Mother to my door or caused me to accept her offer." Tears of rage, and fury, and sadness flowed without thought, and she turned to face him. You want to know WHY I accepted your mother's invitation?"

"Yes."

"Because she didn't think I would!" His body tensed, mouth opening to speak, but Hermione would not let him.

"No, Malfoy. You don't get to speak now. You wanted to know so badly, so here it is. I said yes because she didn't think that I would be kind enough to hear her out. She is a proud, wealthy, pureblood witch and for ONCE, she didn't think herself above me. She didn't assume I would be thrilled at the idea of tea with the Malfoy Matriarch. And she didn't invite me as part of some hidden agenda, she invited me because she felt it was the right thing to do. To thank me for testifying at her trial, AND YOURS if you care to remember. And no, I didn't expect anything in return for testifying. I did it because it was the right thing to do. You see, your mother and I have something in common after all."

Drawing a shaky breath, she willed the tears to stop. She was letting her emotions get the best of her. Looking up at the blonde wizard, she stepped even closer to him. He wasn't reacting to her words, only looking at her with that same unreadable expression. But there was something behind that mask. No one could be completely void of emotion, but damn it if this man wasn't in complete control over them. This angered her even more; he kept his reactions in check all the while she had lost all semblance of control over hers. She wanted him to react, wanted his mask to to fall, shattering into a million pieces on her living room floor. This wasn't how their arguments went. He always gave as good as he got. He wasn't supposed to just stand there and take it. He was supposed to fight back. Why wasn't he fighting back? She decided to embrace her rage, and the moment her magic washed over them, she finally saw a spark of something in his eyes. But he still held it back.

"DAMN YOU, MALFOY!" She slammed her hand against his firm chest once. And then a second time. "DAMN YOU FOR COMING HERE. DAMN YOU FOR FORCING ME TO TALK TO YOU. DAMN YOU FOR EVERY FOUL NAME YOU EVER CALLED ME BACK AT SCHOOL. DAMN YOU FOR STANDING THERE AS IF YOU FEEL NOTHING. DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU!" She was recklessly beating her fists against his body now. Cursing with each blow she landed. He wasn't defending himself. He wasn't moving. He hadn't made a sound. And that made her hate him even more.

"Say something, damn it! _Do_ something." One large hand reached forward and encircled both of her wrists, ceasing her assault. She struggled to free her arms, but he was much stronger than her. She stared up at him defiantly, and it was then she realized his expression had changed. His brow furrowed, and his piercing grey eyes had melted into liquid pools of silver. He seemed to be searching, searching her face for something. Wrists still firm in his hand, he began walking forward, pushing her body with his own. She knew she should be fighting him, but she remained too entranced by those eyes. Her yelp as her back met the wall caused Malfoy to smirk, and he took one more step forward, pressing the length of his body against her. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he continued to scrutinize her expression. What was he looking for? Without warning, his brow shot up, and he backed away. The sudden loss of contact caused Hermione's knees to buckle, and she dropped to the floor. She released a large breath and wondered how long she had been holding it. Malfoy's chest swelled with sharper, more uneven breaths now, as he ran a hand through his pristine hair. He hadn't noticed her new position on the floor, and she hoped he might leave before he saw her now. She was weak from her outburst, and the pounding in her head had returned, blurring her vision. She bent her knees, hugging them to her chest. Only a moment later, her body was enveloped by two strong arms, and she was lifted off the floor. She turned into his chest, on reflex and braced herself for some scathing remark, but he said nothing. Instead, he brought her in closer to him, and carried her back across her living room, depositing her gently on the sofa. Hermione couldn't bring herself to look at him. She felt broken and wasafraid to break the silence in the room. He hovering over her prone form, and she felt his fingers dance softly across the skin of her temple as he pushed a wild curl away from her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and he immediately jerk his hand away.

"I should be going, Granger." She listened to his fading footsteps down the hall and then the quiet clicks of her front door as it opened and then closed, before drifting off to sleep.


	15. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Own nothing but an overactive imagination.

Hermione awoke for the second time that day, but this time, it was without the banging in her head or at her door. Ginny returned home from Harry's to find Hermione fast asleep on their sofa.

"Please tell me you didn't sleep out here all night, Mione."

It only took a moment for the morning's memories to come flooding back to her, and only an instant longer for Ginny to realize something was wrong. She watched as her friends face scrunched, first in concentration, then in irritation. After a quick bite to appease her painfully empty stomach, Hermione detailed both incidents with Malfoy, and was amused at all the various shades of red her friend's face could turn.

"Attacked him?!"

"Yes! I was screaming at him and hitting him and sobbing like a fool."

"Did he hurt you?" Ginny's eyes were wide, and her face matched the red of her hair. Ginny was a lot more like Ron than people gave credit to. Hermione had to all but tackle her friend to the floor to prevent her from storming Malfoy Manor seeking vengeance. Once the red-head had been wrangled, Hermione had been able to finish her story, ending in the very kind and almost intimate way he had left her on the sofa. Wringing her hands, she looked back to her friend. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth open slightly in an expression of shock and confusion.

"I-I don't know what to say" she finally sighed out. "Are you sure you didn't fall and bump your head last night?" Hermione stifled a laugh before pointing to the two takeaway cups on the floor, proof it had not been a dream at all. "Merlin! Are you ok?!"

"I'm fine. Really, Gin. Maybe I'm just in shock, but I actually feel more like myself right now than I have in years. Evidently, a night of drinking and a morning of fighting was precisely what I needed." They both laughed at that. And it was the truth. Hermione felt lighter, free of the anger and frustrations that had been weighing her down. The rational part of her brain told her the endorphins released during her emotional breakdown were the cause. The Gryffindor part of her brain told her it was good karma from finally putting Malfoy in his place. She ignored the nagging in the back of her brain, telling her she exposed too much of herself in the process, too many vulnerabilities that could be exploited. Instead, she relished in the satisfaction she felt for telling the pompous git off. Someone should have done it long ago. He had become too used to people bowing down before him, praising the Slytherin prince for his money and his looks, neither being things he worked for. Why should he be praised for them? He was selfish and arrogant and thought only of himself. Right? Right! Her internal rational was cut short when she noticed Ginny fighting back a fit of giggles, convulsing and spitting from the effort.

"What on earth is happening?" Finally, Ginny exploded with laughter, composing herself just long enough for a brief explanation.

"I'm sorry, Mione. It's just. Merlin, it's like some trashy romance article in 'Witch Weekly'!" and then she was overtaken by another fit of laughter, this one causing her to fall over onto her side, her hands gripping her stomach.

"What are you on about?"

"Or like your muggle soap operas." She sputtered between laughs. ï¿½You know, these two people who hate each other finally fight, and before anyone knows it, one of them has the other pressed into a wall somewhere snogging them like there's no tomorrow."

"There was no snogging, Gin."

"Yea, right, I know, but the whole thing reads like a lesson in sexual tension. Ridiculous, I know, you and Malfoy!? But think about it, if it was any other two people, you must admit, it would be sound logic to say that was all some sort of kinky foreplay." As she dissolved into another fit of giggles, Ginny was completely unaware of the bushy-haired brunette fast approaching her, pillow in hand. As said witch flung said pillow down on her head, thoughts of Malfoy dissipated, and all that remained was two friends laughing on the floor.

Harry came over later for dinner, and Hermione wasnï¿½t sure what to make of his reaction.

"He carried you to the sofa?"

"Yes Harry, are you even listening?"

"Of course, but-" Harry stopped himself mid-thought. Not something he was known for.

"But what?"

"Well, don't you think it's odd that he didn't fight back. Didn't mock you? And he carried you to the sofa, almost like he was... comforting you?"

"Trust me, Harry. There's no part of Malfoy that is comforting."

The three of them chatted on about nothing of any real importance. It was nice and familiar, and both Harry and Ginny noticed the change in Hermione's demeanor. She was happier, and there was a light behind her eyes that had been absent for far too long. After they had their fill of conversation, food and wine, Harry and Ginny retired to his flat, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts. Changing into a comfortable pair of leggings and an old jumper, Hermione lit a fire and settled into the sofa. She resolved to put her confrontation with Malfoy out of her mind. What was done, was done, and she had more important things to do with her time than to fret over the repercussions? Even though his contrasting behavior confused her greatly, Chances were, she would not see him again. He had his answer, so there was no reason to bother her. With that last conclusion, Hermione turned her attention to the papers in front of her. Her meeting with the Wizingamot was fast approaching, and there was still plenty of work to be done.

Later that week, Hermione slumped into her desk. Her meeting was disastrous. She had been unable to secure all the needed funds for her project, but she reworked her proposal to allow for the variance. It was all quite doable, but despite the high number of donations, the Wizingamot was displeased that she had yet to attach a major contributor to the campaign. They also shot down half of her legislation changes, stating it was too large of an endeavor to undertake all at once. Although they did not dismiss the proposal altogether, they insisted on her further scaling back the campaign. Couldn't they see that they needed to make drastic changes to move forward?! They had given her another month to rework the proposal and to secure the additional funding from a major corporation or prominent investor, but all the companies she owled already turned her down. She tossed the paperwork across her desk and leaned her forehead against the smooth wood surface.

Why should it matter WHERE the funding comes from if they have it? Did they not believe in her? Why? Because she is a muggleborn she must be ignorant to wizarding politics? More lingering prejudice. Growing more and more frustrated, she began banging her head, focusing on the sharp pain instead of her wondering mind. But, when a husky chuckle floated through the room, she froze, closing her eyes, and cursed under her breath. She forgot to close her office door. Collecting her composure, she lifted her head and was met with the warm brown eyes of Blaise Zabini. He leaned carelessly against the doorframe, and her heart shuddered as she took in the sight he made.

"Now Granger, we wouldn't want you damaging that pretty head of yours." She straightened in her seat and tried not to blush as his eyes traveled down to her chest. Ginny insisted she abandon her usual modest attire for something a bit tighter and shorter today. 'A little skin never hurt a witch's cause you know, Mione. It might be the extra push those under-sexed wizards need to accept your proposal.' She watched as the wizard's eyes darkened, and she felt exposed. She pushed the emotions growing in her belly aside and adjusted her blouse, hoping to restore a bit of her reserve in the process.

"Something I can help you with, Mr. Zabini?"

"Please, call me Blaise." He pushed from the doorframe and moved to take the seat in front of her. "And indeed, it is I who is here to offer my assistance to you." She quirked an eyebrow at him but motioned for him to continue all the same. "After our evening at The Three Broomsticks, I happened to come upon an article Luna wrote in The Quibbler."

"You just happened across this?'

"Yes, quite fortuitously, It would seem. You see, I've been looking for a good cause to support, and I suspect that I have found that in S.P.E.W." Finally, Hermione thought, someone got the name right. Though she remained skeptical of the timing and any offer of charity from a Slytherin, who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth. She assumed her best all-business demeanor and reached for her calendar.

"Excellent! I would love to schedule us some time to review the proposal in more detail. I had a meeting with the Wizingamot and there are a few suggestions I would like to incorporate. It shouldn't take long, but, let's see, I have some time available this coming Monday?"

"I will be leaving for France on Monday, what about Friday?" Hermione looked at her schedule. And furrowed her brow.

"I'm sorry, I'm in meetings all day."

"I meant Friday evening." She blanched. "Over dinner." She stopped breathing. Did he ask her out? On a date? No, it was business. People did business over dinner. She was sure it was a common practice among Purebloods. They enjoyed any opportunity to prove their wealth and power, mixing business with pleasure. But what kind of pleasure would they be mixing?

"Oh" was all Hermione could manage in lieu of a response.

"How about 8 o'clock at the Broomsticks? I'll meet you outside." Before she had the time to try to formulate some sort of reply, the wizard stood and approached her desk. Taking her hand, he placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles but didn't let go immediately. Instead, his lips hovered over her skin, as he looked up at her with a sly smirk. "Until then, ma lionne."

And with a wink he released her hand and strode out of her office, stepping aside when he met another wizard in the hall. With a slight nod of acknowledgment to the man, he continued on his way.

"Mione, wasn't that Blaise Zabini? What did he want?" the dark-haired wizard questioned, before taking a drink from his cup.

"I think he asked me on a date." And at that statement, Harry Potter choked on his coffee.


	16. With Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

Two days later, Hermione entered her flat and immediately heard someone moving around in her bedroom. Cautiously, she stepped through the doorway to find her floor and bed littered with clothes, and a red-headed witch rummaging through her closet.

"Gin! What on earth are you doing?" Her friend turned to her, a giddy expression on her face.

"Tonight is your date with Zabini! You need to look stunning!" With a devilish grin, she returned to her task.

"It's not a date! I already told you this. It's just a business meeting." She began picking up the discarded robes that apparently hadn't met Ginny's standards for the evening. "I'll just go as I am."

"You will do nothing of the sort! And I told you that this most certainly IS a date. You need to put yourself back out there, Mione. And who better than one of England's most eligible bachelors."

"Most eligible womanizer you mean. He's fit for sure, and he knows it. And from what I've heard so do half the women in England...and France!"

"I'm not saying you should marry the bloke, but a good snogging will do wonders for a woman's mood." At that the witch turned and wiggles her eyebrows, causing Hermione to snort with laughter.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"Yes. And you love me for it. Now come on, nothing in here will do." She took Hermione by the hand and drug her to her own room. Leaving her by the bed, she began searching her own closet and exclaimed when she came across a particular gown. "THIS will have him snogging you senseless by 9!" Hermione examined her selection. A gorgeous emerald green dress with silver trim. The neckline plunged and held a small teardrop shaped pear at the end which Hermione assumed was placed there with the sole intent on drawing a man's eye.

"Godric, Gin! I can't wear that thing! He will think I'm trying to seduce him. And Slytherin colors? Really? How obvious. I can't believe you even own something...so...un-Gryffindor-ish?" Ginny doubled over with laughter at Hermione's very inarticulate and very childish description. Ok, so maybe she sounded like a petulant child. Maybe Gryffindors could wear green if they wanted. Slytherins didn't have the market cornered on the color. She still didn't appreciate the riotous laughter at her expense.

"Well maybe you _should_ seduce him. I'm sure he won't oppose."

"I am NOT going there to have some sort of _dalliance_ with the man. I'm going to try to secure funds and save S.P.E.W. Plus, we aren't going to some fancy restaurant. It's just the Three Broomsticks!"

"Live a little, Mione. There are some witches out there that would deem this every day attire. Besides, this dress is going to help you secure a lot more than funds!" And at that she tossed the dress to Hermione.

Over the next hour Ginny successfully wore Hermione down and she had agreed to wear the damned dress. Although she refused the silver stilettos she suggested to accompany it, instead adorning a pair of her usual modest flats. Ginny was horrified at the affront to fashion but dropped her argument when Hermione agreed to allow her to do her makeup. The result was a sultry smoky eyeshadow and a shocking shade of red stain on her lips. While it was not a look Hermione went for, she couldn't argue that it looked good. She attempted an elegant up-do with her hair, but eventually gave up and decided to allow her mane to fall free down her back. It wasn't a date anyway, right?

With a final once over, Ginny gave her friend the nod of approval and ushered her out the door.

"You're already five minutes late, witch! Now go. Go and don't you dare come home before midnight...if you come home at all" she said with the wink. Hermione allowed herself to be pushed through the door, but stopped when she was on the other side, turning to her friend with a glare.

"You've got money riding on tonight don't you, Gin?" The redhead had the decency to look offended, but the slight upturn of her lips gave her away.

"Why Hermione Granger, I would never!" With a dramatic flair fit for the stage, Ginny clasped her hand to her chest.

"You're such a liar! And I hope you're prepared to lose to Harry for once, because this is definitely _not_ a date."

"We will see about that." Hermione grinned at her friend and then turned, walking down the stairs to the alley so she could apparate. Ginny watched her as she walked, the dress clinging to her in all the right places. Oh yea. Harry Potter was going to lose.

Hermione hurried down the cobblestone streets until she the front of the Three Broomsticks came into view. She was late. She was never late. Stopping momentarily to catch her breath and running her hands over her hair, she made her way to the pub, now at a much slower pace. As promised, Blaise was waiting out front, and as he spotted her his eyebrows shot up approvingly.

"Why Miss Granger, you look breathtaking this evening." Hermione blushed and lowered her gaze slightly, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

"Now Blaise, if I'm to call you by your first name, you must call me by mine." Was she flirting? Where did that come from? She shouldn't get her hopes up that Blaise actually _wanted_ this to be a date. But what did _she_ want this to be?

"With pleasure," the dark headed man practically purred, " _Hermione_." And with that he took her arm in his and led her through the door.

Dinner with Blaise was going quite well. And Hermione conceded that Ginny _might_ just win her bet. While Hermione had to admit this felt an awful lot like a date, they still managed to work in good conversation about her foundation and his contributions.

Hermione was getting ready to excuse herself to the restroom, when she felt a presence behind her, and a long shadow cast over the table in front of her. Blaise looked up to the figure with a genuine smile on his face.

"Draco, good to see you mate! What brings you out on this fine evening? Hermione sucked in a breath. Oh, no. Would he tell Blaise about her psychotic outburst? Surely he would relish the opportunity to ruin her... date? Maybe he didn't even realize who she was. But who was she kidding? With her hair down and in its current state, there was no mistaking her, especially from behind. But he would never suspect her to be out with one of his best mates if he would stay where he was behind her...

Her last remaining hope vanished as the tall figure moved to stand at her left. Keeping her chin angled down, she glanced at the figure, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw the disapproving face of the man she hoped to never see again. No option but to face him, she lifted her head to greet him, only to see his eyes boring down on her, and she found the words were now stuck in her throat. The next moment, a breathtakingly beautiful with appeared next to Malfoy, and draped herself over his arm. She was tall. Almost as tall as Malfoy, with crystal blue eyes and long blonde curls. Hermione couldn't help but be envious of those curls. Where Hermione's were tight and frizzy, the blondes cascaded down in perfectly formed winglets. Her skin was smooth and flawless, slightly tanned, and seemed to emit some sort of urethral glow. Hermione wondered if the witch might be part Vella, or perhaps it was some beauty charm she had cast.

"Blaise, I believe you know Miss Talbot?"

"Of course, how could I ever forget such a _lovely_ face?" Blaze stood and, taking the witches hand, placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. She watched as his lips hovered over her hand as he smirked at the blonde witch, causing her to blush. It was exactly as he had done with Hermione, just days prior. Hermione internally chastised herself. Of course, it was all an act; this is how Blaise was. A womanizer. She had just lectured Ginny on this fact. How has she forgotten so quickly? She had allowed herself to get swept away by his flirtatious nature and praising of her cause. But she could see it now, as he so openly flirted with another woman, in front of her _and_ in front of the witch's date. He had SOME nerve. He was only after one thing, and he most certainly would not get that from Hermione.

After a short fit of giggles, the Talbot turned again to look at Hermione. There was something in her eye. A sort of disdain mixed with pride that Hermione was trying to read when her focus was interrupted by the wizard to her left.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged her with a polite tilt of his head. "Nice to see you again. I hope you are well." This was a different side of Malfoy, one she had never seen before. He was pleasant enough but rigidly formal. Is this how Purebloods behaved to each other in social settings? And if so, what did it mean that he directed such manners toward her? He looked on at her expectantly. And she felt her mouth go dry as she willed herself to form some sort of reply.

"Mr. Malfoy," she tried to match his primness. "Why yes, I'm quite well. Thank you. Blaise and I were just discussing his support of S.P.E.W. He's planning to make a sizeable donation." She wasn't sure why, but she felt the need to explain her being out with Blaise. Maybe it was just to have something to say. Maybe because it was the truth. Maybe because of the way he was _still_ looking at her. She watched as his jaw clenched and she couldn't help but wonder what emotions were swirling behind that mask of indifference. She broke eye contact first, at the sound of Blaise chucking across the table.

"Yes, Draco, we were discussing a mutually beneficial arrangement. I expect to be working very _closely_ with our Hermione here." Hermione winced at the implication of his words, and Malfoy's head snapped to Blaise at his words. The air around them felt thick as she watched some sort of unspoken conversation passing between the two housemates. Talbot had watching the entire exchange with a scrutinizing eye, and at the break in conversation, pressed herself more firmly against Malfoy, clearly wishing his attention back on her. Moving her hand up his chest, she looked adoringly at him.

"Draco, dear," she cooed. "Won't you introduce me to your _friend?_ " She emphasized the word 'friend' heavily. Hermione got the distinct impression she was both staking her claim AND trying to determine her own association with the wizard.

"Forgive me. Camilla, allow me to introduce you to Miss Hermione Granger. The brightest witch of our age. Miss Granger, this is Camilla Talbot" Talbot nodded her greeting, smiling sweetly, but Hermione was too caught up deciphering Malfoys words to do anything but reply with a nod in turn. He had introduced her as 'the brightest witch of their age' without a trace of malice in his voice. He had used that same title while at her apartment, but with so much condescension it felt like an insult before, but not this time. This whole situation was bizarre, and the air laced with tension. This was the second night out Malfoy had ruined with his presence. But she supposed, in an odd way, he had saved her from falling prey to Blaise's charms. She wanted to leave the table. Wanted to leave the pub. She was confused and embarrassed and didn't appreciate the looks she was receiving from the pair of blondes at her side.

Hermione looked across the table to Blaise, sitting comfortably back in his seat, coolly sipping his wine. As he sat the glass back down, he met her gaze. She was sure that he could sense her discomfort, but he appeared in no hurry to help alleviate it. He returned his attention to Malfoy, and she saw his eyes brighten as a dangerous smirk spread across his fine features.

"Are you two love-birds here for a late meal?" Talbot opened her mouth to speak but Malfoy cut her off.

"Just drinks." His response was short and clipped. Blaise's smirk spread into a gleeful grin, and Hermione knew she would not like what was getting ready to happen.

"Then you simply must join us. We've just finished eating ourselves, but I'm not quite ready to be rid of my enchanting companion for the evening." No. No. No. No. Hermione couldn't take that. She stood abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor and she forced it back. Tossing her napkin on the plate in front of her, she began reaching for her cloak.

"I really should be going, Blaise. I need to draw up the papers for your contribution, and you know me, work work work. Haha!" She knew she was rambling and presumably looked like a fool, but she didn't care. Blaise stood and moved to help her with her cloak, but she brushed him off. "I remember you leave for France on Monday, but I'll get the contracts over to you as soon as possible for you to review. If you have any questions, just owl me. Thanks for a lovely dinner." She expected him to say something, try to convince her to stay, or at least look rebuked at her sudden insistence to leave, but he just looked…. amused. No time to dwell on that now. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Talbot." She extended her arm out, offering a handshake as a goodbye, and was only slightly surprised when the witch turned up her nose at the gesture. _Bitch_. "Er, well, goodnight." It took every inch of her Gryffindor courage to meet the gaze of the wizard beside her. "Malfoy." She nodded her head sharply and pursed her lips. Time to make her escape. She promptly turned and headed toward the door, and the last sound she heard was Malfoy's voice.

"Until next time, Granger."


	17. The Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

**A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.**

The Library

Hermione picked up the morning's Daily Prophet and flipped it open, only to land on an image of a now- familiar couple.rophet

_IN LOVE WITH A DEATHEATTER?_

The headlines read. The picture showed Miss Talbot and Malfoy exiting some fancy wizard restaurant in Paris the night before. So that's where they had been before coming to the Three Broomsticks. She watched as the image replayed in front of her. The witch was draped over his arm looking up adoringly to her male companion as they walked down the street. She doubted they were in love. Not only because she didn't think the man capable of loving anyone but himself, but also because while she was entranced with his presence he didn't appear to be paying her much attention. He strode, tall and proud, shoulders straight and eyes forward. She also hadn't seen much affection from him while they were at the broomsticks. And by her reaction to Blaise's flirtations, she guessed the witch was in love with the money and fame, not the man.

She skimmed the article, only to ensure their trip to the pub and with it, her date with Blaise was not mentioned in any ridiculous tale. As soon as she was certain, she cast the newspaper aside. Last night she had arrived home from the Three Broomsticks to find Narcissa's owl waiting for her with an exciting invitation.

> _Miss Granger,_
> 
> _I enjoyed our time together the other week immensely_ _and , having noted your love for knowledge and learning, I wondered if you might be interested_ _in the manor's library. It is quite extensive and I believe_ _you to be one of only a few witches of my association to truly_ _appreciate and make use of its contents. I think_ _you will find it equal to the grandeur of Hogwarts._
> 
> _Should this offer entice you, please feel free to visit at any time._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Narcissa Malfoy_

Hermione was both shocked and intrigued by the invitation. Despite Mrs. Malfoy's hospitality, she hadn't expected another invitation to the manor, much less an invitation to their library. From what she had gathered, few people had ever been extended such an offer. The Malfoy library was something of a mystery. Rumors had always circulated about its contents, what dark and sinister texts it might contain due to the family's affiliation with the Dark Lord, but after the war the stories had shifted. The Ministry had performed an inspection on the Manor after Voldemort's fall. All potentially dangerous objects had been removed and secured by the Aurors. Surprisingly few books had been confiscated, but the grandness of the library had not been lost on the searching Aurors. They came back with tales of its vastness and varying assumptions on the worth of the vast collection. This was not an invitation Hermione could pass up. If even a fraction of what they said was true, Hermione was sure there was a wealth of new knowledge there for her to explore. She had replied to the letter immediately, letting her know she would come by Saturday around noon.

With a quick glance in the mirror and a final attempt to subdue some of her curls that had escaped her messy bun, she grabbed her wand and her cloak before disapparating to Malfoy Manor. Tootsie greeted her happily as she opened the now familiar Door to the Manor.

"Mistress is waiting for Mrs. Hermione in the parlor."

"Thank you, Tootsie. I know the way." She made her way to greet Narcissa, who embraced her fondly. Hermione hoped she would not be required to have a formal visit with her before making her way to the Library. Not that she was opposed to spending more time in the witch's presence, she was merely eager to get her hands on some ancient tomes, and she did not want to offend her.

"Hermione, dear, I'm so glad you decided to come by. It's so nice to have another woman in the house. Would you like something to drink, or are you too anxious to head to the library?" There was a knowing look in the elder witch's eye, which eased Hermione's anxiety.

"Would you mind terribly if I took tea in the library?" Her voice was meeker than she would have liked.

"No, not at all dear," Narcissa reassured. "Come, let me show you the way."

Hermione had expected a massive collection, but she had not prepared herself for the site of the Malfoy library. The tall walls were lined, floor to ceiling with bookcases, save for a few glass doors, which she assumed led to private reading rooms. In the center of the room was another grand marble fireplace, in front of which were stacks of plush carpets and throw pillows, and she couldn't help but think it odd that a Malfoy would deign it appropriate to ever sit on the floor, even with such lush accommodations. To the side there was also a large mahogany desk, covered in parchment and quills, a few hastily stacked books on its corner. She walked further into the grand room, her hand absentmindedly skimming the spines of books as she went. On the other side of the fireplace sat a red velvet sofa, framed with two tan high-back chairs. Odd, she would have expected them to choose a green color scheme, but the deep red of the fabric accented the mahogany wood perfectly. In front of the sofa was a large ottoman, again, covered in parchments, quills, and books. Unlike the other rooms in the Manor she had seen, this one appeared lived-in and comfortable, and Hermione thought it felt like home.

"I'll leave you to it dear. Take as long as you would like. The oldest of the Malfoy tomes are located in the reading room there. And if you are interested, the Black tomes are through the next door down." Narcissa indicated the rooms with a graceful flair, pride shining in her eyes, before exiting back through the large wooden doors, closing them behind her. As soon as she was alone, Hermione let out an excited breath as she extended her arms out, spinning around in joyful circles. When she began to feel a bit dizzy, she moved to allow herself to fall back onto the sofa, not even trying to hold back her giggles as she landed with a bounce. Where should she even start? She allowed her dizziness to dissipate before standing again, having decided to start with the Black family tomes.

Hermione didn't know how long she had been there. She collected as many books as she could carry and situated herself on the rug in front of the fireplace; her cloak and jumper long ago discarded on the floor next to her wand. Her stomach started to rumble, and she wondered what time it was. Did Narcissa know she was still there? Or had she assumed Hermione had taken her leave already? She wondered if it would be all right for her to summon Tootsie for a snack. Perhaps she should seek out her host.

She heard the large wooden doors open and turned, but froze when she saw a very disheveled Malfoy walk through the doors. He did not seem to notice her there, and she wondered if she should speak. Instead, she took a moment to inspect the Malfoy heir.

He looked tired, frustrated, and both his posture and face were absent its practiced poise and demeanor. Rather than his usual purposeful stride, his steps were somewhat clumsy and hard against the marble floors. She could make out a layer of stubble on his face and his hair was messy and disheveled, reminding her of Harry's. With that thought she tried to suppress a small snort, but, she hadn't caught it in time because Draco froze, straightening and turned her direction. His mask was back in place, his expression composed, and his slate-colored eyes were flat. Emotionless. But she had already seen his prior state and wondered what happened to leave him looking so beaten.

"My Apologies," he said. "I didn't realize you were here."

"It's quite all right. This is your home. I should be leaving anyway."

"Don't leave on my account. I'm sure Mother is expecting you to stay for dinner."

"Is it that late already?" Malfoy smirked.

"It's half seven."

"Merlin. I had no idea." Hermione jumped up, scrambling to get her belongings together.

"No, Granger, stay. My mother will hex me if she thinks I ran you off."

"Are you trying to convince me to _stay_ , or to _leave_ with that comment?" Malfoy's flat grey eyes seemed to spark to life at her jab. His mask slipping slightly.

"Oh Granger, if I intended to make you leave, you would already be gone." He chuckled, and Hermione had to admit, it was a wonderful musical sound. "Consider this your formal invitation. Stay for dinner, Mother so rarely has the opportunity to engage other witches in intelligent conversation."

"Yes well it's nice to know not all pureblood women talk about is fashion, jewelry, and balls." She watched as he quirked an eyebrow at her statement.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but when it comes to pureblood witches, Mother is more the exception than the rule. I doubt you would find the company of others so stimulating." This was so odd, standing in Draco Malfoy's library wearing only a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and they were actually having a pleasant conversation. Maybe this wasn't real, it was all a dream, and she had fallen asleep while reading. She pinched the side of her leg just to be sure. Ouch! Nope, not a dream. definitely awake. He was looking at her curiously now. Oh, Merlin. had she said that out loud? No. No, she was sure that she hadn't. She felt compelled to address the elephant in the room.

"Malfoy, about the morning at my flat-" and something in Malfoy's face shifted. His expression vacant again, but his eyes were darker, almost smoky, dangerous.

"No need to bring that up, Granger. We were having a perfectly civil conversation, or didn't you notice?" She took in his expression, not quite sure what caused this change.

"I just, I wanted to apologize you know for-"

"Assaulting me?"

"Yes. For that and for the crying." She shifted her weight as she spoke but squared her shoulders, prepared for another argument. She decided against berating him for the way he reacted to her that morning, the way he forced her back against the wall and invaded her space. Images of how he pressed himself against her, caging her in and taking away her control flooded her mind. Ginny's words also replayed in her mind. _'The whole thing reads like a lesson in sexual tension.'_

"You are truly hideous when you cry, you know that Granger?" His words were harsh, but his voice was light. Hermione blushed and looked down her bare feet embarrassed, but she was thankful for the slight jab. It broke the tension, plus, it wasn't a lie.

"I know. So will you be joining us for dinner tonight?" She hoped he would not.

"No, I have some business matters I need to attend to." His tone was all formality again, like the night before at the pub.

"Oh, all right." Hermione tried to hide her relief.

"Mother is in the sitting room if you'd like to join her."

"Yes thank you. I will, I just need to put these books back." She bent down and began picking up the array of books she had accumulated from the floor.

"I'll take care of it," and with a flick of his wrist, the books floated through the air And began to shelf themselves, startling her. With a sigh, she turned back to Malfoy, knowing he hadn't missed her embarrassing reaction. He was smirking again.

"It's almost like magic, huh Granger?"


	18. Mood Swings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

Mrs. Malfoy had indeed requested Hermione stay for dinner, and the two enjoyed comfortable conversation throughout the meal. Hermione found the elder witch easy to talk to, once the initial formality of her demeanor had slipped away and she insisting that Hermione call her Narcissa. She had been thrilled to hear Hermione opted to review her family's section of the library first. There was no hiding that the Malfoy Matriarch's pride of her family's history and Hermione was pleased that it was not founded by their blood status, but their wizarding accomplishments and contributions. Some hours later, the two found themselves back in Narcissa's favorite sitting room.

"My son tells me you enjoyed the company of Mr. Zabini last night." Hermione tensed at the change in conversation. Looking back to the witch, she was surprised to again find a carefully guarded expression on her face.

"Oh, yes. He visited my office this week. We set up a business dinner to discuss him contributing to S.P.E.W." The blonde's eyebrows rose slightly.

"A business dinner?"

"Yes, it was the only time our schedules could align before he leaves for France." Hermione couldn't help but feel she was being interrogated in some way, and this thought instantly put her on guard.

"How _convenient_ his scheduled allowed for such a meeting after hours." She was searching for something. But what?

"Yes. I don't usually conduct business over dinner, but anything for the cause, right?" Her attempt at humor fell short of easing the newfound tension in the room as Narcissa's gaze remained firm.

"Were the two of you able to finalize your arrangement?" 'Finalize'? Was she asking if she was going to be seeing him again? She thought back to her dinner with Blaise, his forward gestures and overtly flirtatious nature. Narcissa was evidently aware of his reputation, how could she not be? And she appeared to be trying to determine the full nature of her relationship with the renouned wizard. If her questions had been phrased less formally, they would have sounded suspiciously like things her mother would ask her. Was Narcissa trying to protect her from this known womanizer?

"All that remains is his final signature on the agreement," there was a questioning look in Narcissa's eye, "so the rest is easily finalized via owl." Narcissa visibly relaxed. Good. She wasn't sure exactly what that look had been about, but she didn't like it.

"Excellent! That must be such a relief for you. Draco has mentioned you encountered some obstacles in obtaining proper funding."

"He has?"

"Yes. I don't mean to overstep, Draco handles all the details, but I don't mind letting you know. We have been discussing our own contributions to your proposal." All air seemed to vacate her lungs at once. Draco Malfoy? Fund S.P.E.W.? "Don't look so shocked, Hermione. I know you and Draco don't have the most," she paused, as if searching for the right word, "simple, sort of relationship, but that alone has not make him ignorant to your successes and movements within the Ministry. He has a keen eye for business and politics, something he learned from his father." Narcissa took a shaky breath. "Although I dare say he is making much better use of his talents than his father did."

She was dead. She was sure of it. Only in some twisted version of hell would the Malfoy heir be interested in her Ministry work. Her heart raced, and her head began to spin. She still wasn't breathing, she remembered, and she forced her body to recall how to perform such an action. With a shaky hand, she placed her cup down on the table in front of her, and politely excused herself to the toilet.

Hermione raced down the darkened hallway. Her brain was on overdrive. What did this all mean? It had to _mean_ something. How could Malfoy have been so upset over her meeting with his mother initially, all the while considering supporting her proposal? Not just that, he had mocked her over S.P.E.W. initially. Had it been an act? A facade to gain some sort of insider knowledge about her proposal?

No, that couldn't have been it. There had been no other mention of S.P.E.W. after that, not that she had allowed much opportunity for it to come up, what with her running away or assaulting him each time they met. And then there was her blow-up. Despite her best efforts, she had thought about that morning. Flashes of their fight popping into her mind at odd moments. Ginny and Harry's words replaying in her head.

> _'If it were any other two people,'_
> 
> _'Almost like he was comforting you,'_
> 
> _'Snogging like there's no tomorrow.'_

Hermione shook her head, willing the thoughts away. There were too many sides to Draco Malfoy, too many contradicting personas. Bloody Slytherins. You never knew what they were up to.

She breathed in deep, calming her mind and racing heart. She really shouldn't have left Narcissa so abruptly, but she needed some space to breathe. She began walking the way she came, resigned to return and apologize for the rude behavior. Still lost in her reverie, she made the last turn down the hall and ran head-first into the man himself. Merlin help her, it was just like in Harry's office. She involuntarily clung to his shirt at their collision, and the smell of parchment and ink again filled her nostrils. Knowing exactly who she clung to this time, she quickly regained her composure. She moved to step away from the man, but his hands shot up, gripping her shoulders, holding her in place. He leaned down, his mouth hovering by her ear.

"Granger," he growled, "you are beginning to make a habit of this." Hermione shivered as his hot breath filled her ear. She tried again to remove herself from him, this time more forcefully, but he did not release his hold on her. "So eager to leave again?" Unsure of her voice, she nodded. "I don't believe you. You know what I think, Granger? I think you like it here, against me, just like this."

"N-no," she stammered, but she didn't try to pull away again.

"Not very convincing," he laughed a humorless laugh, "most people instinctually push back when they run into someone else, but you, you cling to me." He was right, she did. Why? Suddenly desperate, she began fighting against him, struggling against his grip, pushing at his chest. This was the version of Malfoy that confused her the most. And why was he so different now than he had been just hours before, in the library?

"Let me go, Malfoy!" and with one final burst of energy, she launched herself backward, and he relinquished his grip on her arms. Stumbling, she backed herself against the wall before righting herself and catching his gaze. His face was dark, and his hair even more unruly than before, as if he had spent all evening running his hands through it. It looked good on him if she was honest, but anything looked better than that mask he was so attached to.

She allowed her gaze to travel down his form and stopped when she reached his forearms. The sleeves of his shirt were undone, rolled up slightly, showing just enough skin for her to make out the scarred head of the twisted serpent residing underneath. But that wasn't what caught her attention. It was the clinching of his muscles, almost rhythmic, that she could not tear rip her eyes away from. His face appeared calm, but the tension in his forearms gave him away. He was anything but calm. His hands balled into fists, and she could see his knuckles whiten in time with each clinch. Her eyes traveled back up, this time to his chest and shoulders, and she stared, almost entranced, as she watched the muscles there flinch.

Individually, each of these movements portrayed his anger, an intent to attack, but as she expanded her view, taking in the entire state of him, it painted a different picture, one of restraint. He was fighting his own body, holding himself back from... something.

She thought about going for her wand, to protect herself for the moment his restraint broke and he attacked her, as she had done him, but then Malfoy did something more shocking. He stepped back, allowing his shoulders to sag, and his head to hang down. Breath ragged, he brought an arm up and ran a hand through his disheveled locks.

"My apologies, Granger. It's been a long night." And then he stepped around the corner and vanished from sight. Hermione stood, transfixed. He apologized. Malfoy men never apologized, especially to muggleborns. She quietly made her way back to Narcissa, wondering if she should ask the witch about her son. His mood swings were going to give her whiplash soon if she didn't watch out.

Maybe she wasn't the only one currently in danger of being committed to St. Mungo's after all.


	19. Contradictions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Hermione did not stay long at the Manor after her run-in with Malfoy. She also did not mention his increasingly odd behavior to Narcissa. But _she_ had pressed the woman for more information surrounding their involvement in her proposal. In the end, it was useless. Despite the woman's willingness to mention their intent, she showed no further interest in discussing the matter, only offering that her son would be in contact soon, before dismissing the topic altogether. While she was far from fully versed on Pureblood etiquettes, Hermione knew it would have been rude to bring the matter up again.

When her alarm woke her the next morning, she straightened with a groan. She did not sleep well at all, plagued with thoughts and dreams of scheming Slytherin men out to get her. Ok, perhaps 'out to get her' was a little extreme, but if nothing else he was out to use her. He needed to restore his family name. That much became clear from her first tea with Narcissa. Contributing to charities and funding new laws seeking equality couldn't hurt his efforts. And Hermione decided, if rich Purebloods wanted to keep throwing their money at her to try to purchase back some sort of respect, she was not above taking it. If she was successful in securing the financial backing of both Blaise Zabini and Malfoy Industries, she knew the Wizingamot would have to support S.P.E.W. She only wished that at least one of them lacked an ulterior motive.

Pilfering through her drawers for a comfortable pair of jeans and a jumper, her mind turned to the Malfoy heir himself. She couldn't work him out, which seemed odd, having spent the better part of 7 years in school with him. He remained both very much the same, and then, quite different than he always had been. War changed everyone, and she found herself inexplicably drawn to the idea of figuring out how the war changed him.

He returned to Hogwarts as soon as it reopened, just as she had. But despite having every class together, they barely exchanged a word that year. She had been surprised, of course, that he would choose to complete his education at the school he betrayed. Maybe it had been a condition of his trial. She regarded him carefully at first, even to the point of following him, at a distance, the first few months. His behavior was odd. Though clearly still the proud pureblood his father raised him to be, all humor in him seemed to have been lost.

Throughout their years in school, Malfoy had been outgoing, especially among his housemates. Despite the blatant animosity between them, it was hard not to notice him, to learn about him, during school. Hermione had always been observant. Malfoy loved being the center of attention and used his position of prominence among his housemates much as a performer does the stage. He told jokes and laughed often, entertaining his audience with pleasure and ease. And he was intelligent, irritatingly so. While Hermione worked hard in her studies, Malfoy's attitude toward his own could have been described as indifferent, spending most of his time playing quidditch or making trouble for her and her fellow Gryffindors. She often wondered if he studied at all, or if he simply did so privately. Regardless, his grades managed to remain only slightly behind hers in every subject, faltering only during 6th year.

Everything about Malfoy screamed privilege and talent, from his grades, to his dress, even his taunts. Hermione reflected back to the "Potter Stinks" buttons he made during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. As awful as she viewed the whole affair, it was an impressive bit of magic. Even she could not charm them to read anything but an insult on her best friend. He excelled at charms, and with his love of playing pranks on others, she suspected, in a different life, with a different upbringing, the twins would have liked him.

None of this by any means overshadowed his prejudices and unwavering animosity toward those he deemed his inferiors, of course, but their last year of school, that mischief and mirth was absent, and it reminded her of his actions only two years prior. He appeared more reserved. Sitting stoically and observing others and their conversations rather than leading them. This demeanor is what drew her attention to him in the first place, certain he was up to something nefarious, as he had been before the infiltration of Hogwarts. She hadn't believed him capable of evil intent then, and she would never make that mistake again.

That was why she made it her mission to uncover his plans, until Ginny caught her lurking in the shadows one evening. After forcing Hermione to explain what she was doing out so late, loitering by the entrance to the dungeons, she not-so-kindly informed her she was acting just as crazy about the wizard as Harry 6th year. Despite Hermione's argument that Harry's suspicions about Malfoy had been well-founded, although a little off-base, she relented and resigned to put both the boy and the man he was becoming, out of her mind for good.

Knowing what she knew now, however, there had been more truth to Harry's accusations after all. Malfoy HAD been a deatheatter all along, and the thought made her stomach churn.

She still saw that stoic man now though, proper and reserved. Masked. Only that first night at the Three Broomsticks had she seen a glimpse of the boy as he was before Voldemort's return, carefree, flirting with Lavender and laughing with his friends. He dropped his mask until she began shouting at him at the bar. Then it returned, she the one who brought it back. Although she disliked his mask, it was at least familiar. He was a contradiction, cold one moment, and then hot to the touch the next. 

She thought she might prefer that side of Malfoy to the newest one, the dangerous one that made her pulse race. It wasn't the same as his younger years, getting upset when Harry bested him in quidditch, or when Hermione's accomplishments overshadowed his own, or when someone failed to laugh at one of his jokes. It was something she only saw now when he stood close to her. Way too close. In those moments he was all fire and brimstone, as if he would light the entire world on fire and watch it burn, with her at its center. In those moments he rendered her powerless. She never wanted to be powerless again.

Draco Malfoy was a mystery. A puzzle. And she was good at puzzles. If she would ever be able to face him properly without ending up on the verge of tears, for one reason or another, she needed to get the upper hand. And to do that, she needed to uncover the mystery of Draco Malfoy...and his mood swings. But where to start?

Usually, when she had a problem or a project, she always knew exactly where to go to begin her research, the Library. But there was no library with texts on Draco Malfoy. She was NOT going to contact Zabini for any purposes other than work; she was sure of that. She also couldn't very well speak to his mother, it was her son after all. She didn't think the elder witch would take kindly to anyone attempting too close a look at the man behind the mask. Merlin, she didn't even know who his friends were. She had only ever seen him with Nott and Zabini. Besides, snakes didn't have real friends anyway, not like she did, not like Ginny and Ron and - HARRY! Suddenly it hit her. There was only one person who might be able to shed light on Malfoy's recent behavior, and he happened to be her best friend.

She changed quickly, grabbing her wand off the nightstand and headed for her fireplace. Taking a handful of floo powder, she stepped in, shouting her destination. "Harry Potter's Flat!"

Hermione dusted off the lingering soot, stepping out of the fireplace and into the messy living room. Hearing giggles from down the hall, she called out.

"You two better be decent!" the noises stopped, and she heard heavy footsteps approaching. She moved to meet them, expecting Harry but was startled when she instead met Ron, wearing only a pair of worn pajama bottoms. His face flushed, and his eyes grew wide when they met. He cast a nervous glance behind him before greeting her.

"Mione! Hey. Hi. Er, what are you doing here?" she was taken back by his odd greeting, and he again looked over his shoulder and down the hallway in the direction he had come. He wasn't happy with her being there, but she brushed it off. Still, she didn't close the gap between them.

"So nice to see you too Ron. I wanted to talk to Harry about something."

"Oh, well, he and Ginny went out for breakfast. I'll tell him you came by." There was a clamor in one of the rooms behind him, and she watched as his face reddened further.

"Is there a reason you're trying to urge me on my way?" she questioned, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Someone else was clearly here with him and based on the early hour, his state of undress, and the feminine tittering she heard when she first arrived, it wasn't difficult to conclude it was a witch, more than likely in a similar state of undress.

"Hermione, I-" But before he could say another word, Lavender Brown bounced into the room wearing one of Ron's old Quidditch shirts...and nothing else. She stopped abruptly when she noticed Ron was not alone, eyes widening in shock. There was a pregnant pause before Hermione chose to speak first.

"Hi, Lavender. Nice to see you again." The young witch smiled, though visibly embarrassed. Hermione was hurt, yes, and she knew it showed on her face. But it was not for the reason her former housemates assumed. She knew Ron no longer harbored romantic feelings toward her. And she had expected Lavender would attempt to rekindle her relationship with Ron now that he was available again. That wasn't what hurt her. What hurt was that neither of them felt they could tell her.

"Well, this is slightly awkward," she said. Maybe a touch of humor might help. It didn't. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Hermione, we-" Ron attempted again, but Hermione held up a hand, silencing him.

"There's no need to explain anything, honestly Ron. I'm just surprised. I thought you might have told me you were seeing someone. Not that you owe me anything, just, I thought you might have told me, as your friend. We are all friends here." She forced another practiced smile on her face before continuing. "It doesn't bother me, just so you know. You don't have to hide this from me. If you two are happy, then I am happy for you truly."

Ron and Lavender shared a questioning look, before the side of Lavender's mouth quirked up a bit, and she gave a half shrug, urging him on. "It's really just started. Nothing official." He turned back to Hermione. "Harry and Ginny are the only ones who know, and that's just because they live here. We weren't trying to hide."

Hermione smiled kindly at her ex-fiancé. "Well, whatever this is, we all really should get together soon. Make an evening of it. My life has recently been over-run by snakes and I could use my pack of lions around!" This time her joke worked and the three of them shared a quick laugh.

"But I really do need to talk to Harry. Did they go to the bakery on the corner? Maybe I can catch up with them there."

"I think so." Lavender volunteered, seemingly more comfortable, but still embarrassed.

"I'll just be off then." She moved to give Ron a quick hug and then waved around him to Lavender before heading to the door. "Don't forget. Lions' night out, and soon!" she said on her way out the door. The couple shook their heads fervently in agreement, and then she left, making her way toward the bakery.

Harry and Ginny were sitting at a table in the corner of the bakery when Hermione arrived. Ginny saw her first and immediately smiled brightly, waving her over to them. Hermione sat down with a plop.

"So," she started, "Ron and Lavender?" Her friends' eyes widened in realization. Neither spoke. Hermione let them sit uncomfortably for only a moment before she burst out laughing. She watched as they visibly relaxed before joining her.

"Apparently!" Ginny said, still laughing.

"That actually took longer than I expected. I figured she would have pounced on him after the Aurors' Ball." Hermione waved over a waitress and ordered herself a cup of tea and a strawberry croissant.

"So, you're ok with it then," Harry asked, concern evident.

"Of course, I am. I don't feel that way about Ron anymore. You know that. I just want him to be happy." The waitress returned with her order and Hermione began quietly sipping her tea.

"Well now that we all know who my idiot brother shagged last night, what brings you here, Mione?" Leave it to Ginny.

"I need the help of the 'Chosen One', of course." Harry blushed, and Ginny sniggered.

"Anything for the brightest witch of our age," Harry replied. "What can I do you for? Finally going to take me up on my offer to help fund your project?"

"I need information," she said flatly. "About Draco Malfoy." This time both of her friends choked on their coffee.


	20. What Happened at Hogwarts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination  
> Just a short little chapter. Don't worry, things are getting ready to heat up.

While Ginny busied herself cleaning drops of coffee off their table, Harry sat, a bewildered expression on his face. Brows furrowed together, he removed his glasses, wiping the lenses with the edge of his shirt sleeve. With a sigh, he returned them to his face and leaned back in his seat.

"I don't know which question to ask first."

"I do!" Ginny interrupted. "WHY?"

"Yes, let's start with the why, Mione." Hermione scooted her chair a bit closer, leaning in to her two friends. Her voice coming out in what Harry would describe, as a loud whisper. He loved his friend, but she couldn't keep her voice down for all the galleons in Gringott's.

"I wanted to know if you have noticed anything...peculiar about his behavior. Anything...inconsistent?"

"I'm not quite sure I understand."

Hermione huffed. It wasn't a difficult question. "You see him often enough, Harry. Regularly even?" Harry warily nodded his head. "Well, how would you describe his moods?"

"You want me to describe the moods of Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes." Harry raised a hand to Hermione's forehead, but she quickly shooed it away. "I'm not ill Harry Potter, now just answer my question!"

"I don't know. He's a prat for sure. Sarcastic to boot. But it depends where we are, and who we are around. Anytime we happen to run into each other in public, I guess I would call him, rigid. And reserved?" He looked over at Hermione questioningly, and she nodded her head, encouraging him to go on. "He's different with Narcissa though. Irritatingly formal, but he's kinder when he's around her. Doting. But he still acts restrained."

Restrained? Interesting. "When you say restrained, do you mean, like he's holding back emotions?" She almost laughed when Harry sneered.

"I don't pay much attention to Malfoy's emotions, that is until he gets mad." Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Anger.

"How does he act to you when he gets mad?"

"Bloody hell, Hermione. I don't know. What in Merlin's name is this about? Just tell me." Frustrated that Harry was giving up after so few questions, Hermione knew she didn't have a choice but to explain what had been going on.

"He's been acting very strangely around me. One minute he's ice cold, all formalities and what not. The next minute it's almost like he's furious and barely containing the urge to send me across the veil. But it's an odd sort of anger. I can't make heads or tails of it. But then the next time I see him, we might hold a perfectly civil conversation!" She threw her hands up in frustration and leaned back into her seat.

"I didn't realize you saw him that often." Hermione turned to the witch and saw a flash of something in her eyes. She didn't like at all. It reminded her of Hogwarts.

"I don't." She said defensively. "Not really. But every time I do it's like I'm talking to a completely different person. For instance, just last night, at the Manor, not a few hours after we-"

"You were at Malfoy Manor last night?" Harry had perked back up, leaning in close to his best friend. When Hermione nodded, he continued. "When? I didn't see you there."

" _You_ were at the Manor last night?"

"Yes, Draco owled me before I left work. Asked me to come over around 8. He had some, er, things he needed to talk to me about." Her mouth dropped. Malfoy's 'business had been with Harry. She had just missed seeing him there.

"WELL, WHAT IN GODRIC'S NAME DID YOU TWO DISCUSS, BECAUSE HE WAS PERFECTLY FINE BEFORE YOU GO THERE, AND AFTER HE WAS COMPLETELY UNBEARABLE!" Her patience was growing thin. Harry was startled by her sudden outburst, but Ginny was mad.

"Look Hermione! There's no need to yell. You're acting crazy right now. Like at Hogwarts."

"What happened at Hogwarts?" Harry turned to his fiancé, but she ignored him.

"It's not like that Gin. I'm just trying to figure out what's wrong with him. Clearly something is. I like Narcissa, maybe if i can figure out what's going on with him, I can help fix it, and-"

"What happened at Hogwarts?" Hermione ignored him as well.

"It is exactly like that! I know you mean well, but you don't have time for another 'project' Hermione. S.P.E.W. takes up enough of your time. And I know how you get, you will throw yourself into this little _investigation_ of yours just like you do everything else, wholeheartedly and headfirst. You won't get enough sleep. You won't eat. And, trust me, you won't get any answers. It's MALFOY. Who knows why he is the way that he is? Oh wait, maybe because his mind has been poisoned since birth by racist pureblood ideologies and lived with Voldemort and his followers for a year! He's screwed in the head. That's all there is to it." Through with her sudden rant, Ginny caught her breath, reached across the table and took Hermione's hand in hers. "You're finally getting back to your old self again, Mione. I just, I don't want you to get sucked up into some Malfoy vortex and lose yourself again. That's one rabbit hole you don't want to fall down."

Harry nodded, placing his hand on top of their on the table. He wasn't sure what else there was to say on the matter, and clearly no one wanted to tell him what happened at Hogwarts. Perhaps he could goad Ginny into telling him later. Right now he would get nowhere with either witch, he knew. Ginny had made her point, though, in his opinion, she was still a little hard on the bloke. But she hadn't spent the time with Malfoy the past year as he had. And he definitely did not want the conversation to continue and risk either of them forcing the question on what he and Malfoy had discussed the night before. Instead he opted for distraction.

"Look at the time! Molly is expecting us soon. Won't you come with us Mione? Sunday brunch at the Burrow just hasn't been the same without you." He smiled fondly across the table, and Hermione smiled sadly back.

"Maybe next week," she said, removing her hands from under her friends'. "Still doesn't feel right yet. Plus I didn't get much sleep last night. Give everyone my love though."

The three chatted for a few more minutes before paying their bills and heading on their respective ways, Harry and Ginny to the Burrow, Hermione back to her empty flat. That hadn't gone like she had hoped. She was no closer to deciphering the enigma that was Malfoy's personality than she was before. Clearly, outside sources were not reliable, and they judged you. She was going to have to do this entirely on her own, and unfortunately, that only meant one thing. She was going to have to spend more time with Draco Malfoy.


	21. Wolfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination

It took Hermione two days to summon the courage to owl Malfoy. A part of her wanted to forget the idea entirely, but she needed answers, and without any other ideas on how else to go about deciphering his moods, it seemed inevitable. Sitting in her office, she picked up her quill and wrote.

> _Mr. Malfoy,_
> 
> _It was recently brought to my attention you expressed interest in supporting S.P.E.W._

She paused. It was professional, yes. The same introduction she would use in correspondence to any potential investor. But this wasn't just any investor. This was Malfoy, and he was astute. Perceptive enough to grow suspicious of her writing him, out of the blue, with such formalities, given their history. He might dismiss the letter all together and ruin her chances of studying him AND gaining his backing. Crumpling the parchment and tossing it to the side, she began again.

> _Malfoy,_
> 
> _What do you want?_

She laughed. No, that's no good either. Her second attempt discarded along with the first, she took a deep calming breath.

> _Malfoy,_
> 
> _I have no doubt your mother told you of our conversation surrounding S.P.E.W. I find it funny you so blatantly belittled the idea of my proposal upon our first meeting here in my office. However, it seems your mother has more sense than yourself and has explained the benefits of such a cause._
> 
> _She told me to expect a letter from you, arranging a meeting to discuss future funding, but alas, I have received no such request. Odd._
> 
> _Being a Gryffindor, you have no doubt of my forwardness and bravery, and as such, thought it best I contact you directly, lest your unfortunate Slytherin tendencies get the better of you._
> 
> _I have several time slots available this week. I doubt you can put together a reasonable excuse to decline. I look forward to our meeting._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Hermione Granger_

Sitting back in her chair, she smirked, crossing her arms and re-reading her words. This would definitely get his attention. Perhaps goading him was not the most professional approach, but she was sure he would not be able to help but agree to a meeting, if only to defend himself against her accusations. Without another thought she grabbed the letter and headed out of her office toward the Ministry's Owlery.

Just after lunchtime there was a light knocking on Hermione's door. Straightening her desk, she flicked her wand toward the door, unlocking and opening it for her visitor. While Hermione did not make a habit of locking her door, she found that with her deadline quickly approaching; she needed the occasional privacy. Mathilda was in the habit of popping into her employees' offices up to fifteen times a day, and the sudden and unannounced intrusions meant it took Hermione twice as long to get her paperwork done.

A nervous Lavender stepped through the doorway and into her office. "Hi Hermione, I hope I'm not bothering you, I was on the floorï¿½" She trailed off, and Hermione knew she still couldn't bring herself to say the rest.

Lavender suffered a vicious attack by Fenir Greyback during the Battle at Hogwarts, Hermione being the one to save her with a well-aimed spell. Though she had been saved the full curse, the attack was still enough to infect her, leaving her with certain lupine tendencies, much like Bill Weasley. Lavender was always a silly and emotional young girl, and though she had grown up since the war, Hermione found she was still quite fragile. Another reason Hermione ventured she was so attached to Ron, she saw him as someone who could protect her, make her feel safe. After the war, when the dust settled, her lupine tendencies began to manifest, and she struggled with the changes.

After graduation, Hermione suggested Lavender make use of her own department. Shacklebolt reopened Werewolf Support Services in hopes of aiding those afflicted with the condition after the war. As many werewolves had chosen to support Voldemort, in hopes of a better life, there was an alarming spike in their population, a majority being young witches and wizards. Greyback had been the worst, and too many had suffered at his hands and claws. It was Mathilda who suggested Werewolf Support Services also open their doors to those attacked by werewolves in their human form, offering them much needed support and acceptance. Lavender was not the only victim having a hard time dealing with their more wolfish-like urges. And it was not as if the department remained very busy. Werewolves were still discriminated against and looked down upon now just as they had been after the war, but some were hopeful for a change, as slow as it might be at coming. The entire sub-department had a staff of only two, and they were still bored out of their minds most days. It was just one of the many things Hermione hoped to rectify through her work at the Ministry

"No bother at all! Please come in," Hermione smiled brightly at her former roommate, welcoming her in. She was eager to move past any strangeness between them after the other morning at Ron and Harry's apartment. The two chatted amicably, and soon nearly an hour passed without Hermione realizing it. Looking at her clock, and then over to the piles of papers on her deck, Lavender took that as her cue and politely excused herself, but not before taking Hermione off on her prior offer of a night out.

"This Friday!" she exclaimed. "7 o'clock. The Three Broomsticks. Summon the troops!" And with a wave and a bounce, she left.

Just before 6, Hermione was trying hard to ignore the rumbling of her stomach when she heard another knock on her door. It was Charles Letterman, a ruggedly handsome man a few years older than Hermione. He worked in Beast division, and the two shared a few working lunches the past year. He was friendly, but quiet, preferring to keep to himself most of the time, which made Hermione like him more.

"Hermione, I knew you must still be here. There's a rather frightening looking owl terrorizing the corridor. He's run most everyone else off, and, well, he's been eyeing your door, so I think he must be waiting for you." Charles opened the door wide, and immediately the owl flew past him, landing on the desk in front of her. She knew that owl. With a smile, she thanked Charles and took the letter from the owl. It took off, without a treat again, and Hermione opened the letter.

> _Granger,_
> 
> _Tomorrow. 9am._
> 
> _D.M._

Hermione began gathering her things, thinking she really should be heading home to get some rest. After all, she had an early meeting tomorrow.


	22. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Hermione watched the clock on her office wall. The second hand clicking with each sudden movement it made. 9:28 and still no Malfoy. Either he never intended to show up, or this was a power play. Either way, Hermione did not appreciate tardiness. The first 10 minutes spent waiting for him she was fuming mad, mind racing, eagerly anticipating the moment he walked through her door so she could accost him. But then, she realized, that was probably what he wanted. He wanted to put her on edge, to ignite her anger so he would have the upper hand. She would not give that to him.

The next 10 minutes were spent more productively. She tidied her desk, and responding to a few inter-departmental memos, until she had run out of busy work. Damn her organization and productivity. She needed him to show. She wanted him to show. Despite her efforts, her pulse was still racing, no longer in anger, but in anxiety. The Wizingamot asked for an update on her financials, making it clear that they would not meet with her again until she successfully secured the needed funding. She needed Malfoy's backing and had very little time. She needed him to show and she needed to win whatever game he was playing with her.

Unable to do much else, she sat, arms crossed against the edge of her desk, watching that damned clock ticking. At 9:31 her door swung open. Malfoy strode casually into her office, as if he wasn't over 30 minutes late. Fighting her gut reaction, she remained seated, grabbing a quill and acting as if she hadn't noticed his arrival. Keeping her eyes down, she absentmindedly marked the parchment. Not that it needed any notations, it was already perfect, or at least had been. Now she would have to rewrite the entire thing. Damnit. Her brow furrowed, but she still refused to look up. She wouldn't speak first either.

So focused on ignoring the blonde wizard, she missed the amused look on his face, smiling as he took in the sight of her. He was still standing, she knew, hands in his pockets as he leaned slightly against the large chair opposite her. It was only when she heard footsteps, she looked up slightly, watching him as he walked around her office.

His cloak discarded on the back of the chair, his back was to her as he examined her bookshelf, head cocked slightly to one side as he read the titles along their spines. He still did not speak, and Hermione knew he had caught on to her tactic. He was playing too it seemed. She examined him, much as she had that night in the library.

He looked nothing like he had that night, at least she thought not, only being able to see the back of him this time. And she cursed herself when she realized what a nice back side it truly was. Aside from the tilt of his head, his posture was straight, but not rigid. Her eyes trailed down from his platinum blonde hair to his broad shoulders. He was in shape. Wizarding clothes were not the most form fitting, but over the years, she had learned you could tell a lot of a man's build by paying attention to their shoulders. Traveling further down his back, her heart jumped when she landed on his rear.

This wizard was always impeccably dressed. Even during Hogwarts, his school robes stood out from the rest, causing her to wonder if his parents had them tailor made. Probably. From her current position behind him, eyes firmly planted in one of the last areas they should be, there was no doubt his current clothing was custom. The fabric fitting perfectly around his hips, framing his quite firm looking posterior. Heat pooled in her abdomen before a graveley chuckle snapped her out of her admiring daze.

She looked up, only to be met with a smug expression. His mask gone, light and mirth danced in his silver orbs. He was smirking at her, almost playfully, but still, he did not speak. Merlin's beard, he looked beautiful, and her mouth dropped open as she reddened.

"Now, now, Granger, you'll catch flies." She snapped her mouth shut, a little too forcefully, catching the inside of her lip between her teeth. Wincing, her hand shot up to her lip as she cursed.

"Fuck!" She didn't mean to say it so loudly, but Merlin that hurt! She could taste the coppery liquid on her tongue as she pressed her middle finger to the small cut. So consumed with embarrassment, she didn't notice Malfoy had moved in front of her desk, and she again missed his change in expression. Her lip was still bleeding. Removing her fingers from her lips, she reached for her wand which set on the edge of her desk, but before she could bring it to her, a large hand covered her own, stilling her movement.

She looked up, confused to the man now holding her hand hostage beneath his own. His eyes. They no longer sparkled, but burned, deep and dark. And if she didn't know better, she would have sworn she could feel actual heat coming from them. The muscles in his neck were tight, jaw clenched, and for a moment, she was frightened. Maybe he recognized it in her eyes because it was that instant he released her hand, taking a large step back.

She drew her hand in quickly, pointing her wand awkwardly at her lip and muttering a quick episkey before setting it down in front of her. Noticing the blood that still stained her finger, she brought it to her mouth, cleaning it quickly with her tongue. Her eyes flicked to Malfoy, now sitting, legs crossed. He was watching her, lips parted, breath still. When he noticed her eyes on him though, his chin lifted, and he cleared his throat.

"If you're done ogling me and injuring yourself, might we get started?" He lifted a single perfect eyebrow as his smirk returned, causing Hermione to redden even further, if possible, before summoning her courage and retorting.

"Why of course, Malfoy. Excuse me, I hadn't thought you eager to get to business, seeing as you felt no need to arrive on time for our meeting." She glared at the infuriating wizard in front of her. She had vowed not to start a fight with him, but that did not mean that she would take any flack from him either. She would give just as good as she got.

"Eager to see me again, were you?" That eyebrow rose even higher. "Not that I'm surprised." Hermione was about to dispute his claim, which was both ridiculous, and unfortunately true, but he dismissed her with a flourish of his hand before continuing. "My being here is simply a formality."

"Formality?" Hermione found her voice. "What do you mean?" Was this all for show? All for appearances? Did he really have no intention of contributing? She needed that money, and she needed their time together discussing it to learn more about him and his behavior, including what had caused him to grab her hand only moments ago.

"Of course. I have already read your proposal, as well as the changes being imposed on you by the Wizingamot. And Blaise provided me a copy of his contract." He paused for a moment, allowing her time for this information to sink in as he examined the walls of her office further. "I've spoken with my financial advisor, as well as my attorney, and we are prepared to double it."

Double it? Double what? "I'm not quite sure I follow. What do you intend on doubling?" She eyed him warily, and scowled when he grinned broadly.

"Blaise's contribution. I am offering you double." Her eyes widened in shock. That was a lot of money. Way more than she needed. Having read her proposal, surely, he knew that. He was up to something. She had to know what. Had to know why.

"Please don't think me ungrateful, that's an incredibly generous offer, but, well-"

"Out with it, Granger."

"Why so much? You know that's three times what I need to get S.P.E.W. off the ground. What's in it for you?"

"There's a lot in it for me. But I won't tell you." The light was dancing in his eyes again. "All you need to know is that Malfoy Industries intends on being a primary supporter of your cause, both now, and moving forward. And I intend on providing more than just money, Granger. I can be quite an ally. Friends in high places and what not."

"And all of this, 'support' you will be providing is, what? All out of the goodness of your heart?" She leaned her arms on the desk, leaning forward and narrowing her eyes, trying to read him, or taunt him. At this point either would do.

He laughed sharply, leaning back into the chair and resting his arms on the armrests. He looked like a king sitting on his throne. "Of course not! I've already told you there's something in it for me. Don't be daft. And don't pretend you don't know what one of those things is already. You're too bright to play dumb."

"You need positive press."

"There's the brightest witch of our year."

"What else?"

"Does it matter? You need the money and I'm offering it to you. And so much more. You've got the brains, but you don't know politics. I do. This is a smart move for each of us." He was right. Merlin help her, he was right, and she hated him for it.

"Fine." She huffed. "I'll get started on the-" She was cut off again as Malfoy reached into his left breast pocket and tossed a stack of folded papers on her desk.

"What's this?"

"I told you, I already spoke with my Attorney. I had him draw up all the needed paperwork. All you need to do is sign, then you can turn this and your other contracts in to the Wizingamot today. I expect they will be scheduling you your second hearing sometime next week."

Hermione unfolded the papers, skimming over them. At first glance everything looked in order, but she would read further to make sure he hadn't added anything sinister, tricking her into sign over her soul or first-born child in the process. Malfoy stood, removing his cloak from the back of the chair and moved to exit her office. She couldn't let him go, not yet.

"Malfoy!" she all but shouted. He turned his head to face her, mask firmly back in place. "Why? I-I mean, why me? Why S.P.E.W.? Surely you could accomplish the same things supporting another foundation, another charity. I don't expect you to tell me everything, I just, I need to know. Or Merlin save me, I will rip up this contract and damn us both!" Her words were angry but pleading at the same time. Malfoy didn't turn to face her fully, instead speaking quietly over his shoulder.

"Simple." He sighed. "You're brilliant.” She sucked in a breath, waiting for him to continue. “And while I disagree on the necessity of all house elves being freed, the underlying purpose of your cause is just.”

“And what purpose is that?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

“Choices. Everyone deserves to have a choice, regardless how inconvenient those choices might appear to others. Every creature should be given a choice.” She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing, allowing him the last word as he exited her office, leaving her to consider this latest development. Yet another side to Draco Malfoy. But this one, she understood, thinking back to the wise words once spoken to her best friend.

> “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."


	23. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination

The remainder of the week flew by as Hermione finalized the financial portion of her proposal. She had tediously reviewed every letter of Malfoy's contract. It was flawless, but she still requested Mathilda look it over as well before signing. The elder witch beamed upon hearing Hermione had secured such funds. After updating her on the remainder of her progress, she left, basking in the glow of her boss’ praise.

So close to her goal, she had even been able to leave work at a reasonable hour, spending her evenings quietly reading or talking with Ginny. Her friend was pleased she was no longer burning the candle at both ends. But she didn’t know the thoughts that continued to plague Hermione’s mind. Thoughts of Malfoy. And she had no intention of letting her friend know anything of them.

Their meeting replayed in her mind, along with every other encounter she had with the wizard. She wondered which was the real him, or perhaps they all were. She had wondered what on earth would possess Harry to willingly spend so much time with Malfoy. How he could bare it. But, despite his snarky remarks, she supposed if he behaved as he had with her the other morning, he was tolerable enough. And then there was the life debt. Was that why Harry had gone to Malfoy Manor?

She had been so taken back by Ginny’s outburst at the bakery that she hadn’t pressed the issue. And she hadn’t seen Harry since. He was busy on their latest case, which was why Ginny had been home so often this week. She would ask him tonight though. Once he had a few drinks.

Hermione flooed home before heading off to the Three Broomsticks to meet her friends. Ginny left a note on the counter, letting her know she and Lavender would be waiting on her there. Hermione hummed to herself as she changed out of her work clothes and put on a more comfortable outfit, releasing her hair from its tight bun with a sigh. Looking in the mirror, she ran her hands over her hair, there was no getting a brush through it right now, but it looked intentionally messy, and that would have to do. She grabbed a cloak and left her flat, happy to spend some much needed time with her friends.

Ginny and Lavender sat at a table in the middle of the pub. Empty glasses already littering its surface. She would never understand how those two could drink so much and keep their wits about them. Settling into the seat next to Ginny, she looked at the empty seats.

"Harry and Ron are in a meeting, they said they would meet us here straight after," Ginny said, simultaneously motioning at the passing barmaid for a fresh round of drinks. "And Luna is off on some excursion with that new wizard of hers, Scamander." At the mention of Luna's beau she waggled her eyebrows. "I bet they do more shagging outside than Nargle hunting this time."

Lavender almost choked on her drink as she started to laugh. "I don't imagine Luna spends much time thinking about sex when there are such interesting and unseen creatures to be found."

"I bet I'm right. I bet she's very...open...in the bedroom." Hermione coughed and playfully shoved her friend.

"Stop it! Please," she chuckled "I was planning on actually eating some time this weekend." The table dissolved into a fit of giggles just as their drinks arrived. She had missed this. Hermione didn't spend much time away from work and even less time with her few girlfriends. And although their favorite topics of conversation differed greatly from her own, they always made her laugh.

She scanned the pub, looking for any other familiar faces when she caught a flash of blonde in the corner before it disappeared, and her breath caught in her chest. She moved in her seat, trying to get a better look through the crowd in the direction that bright blonde head of hair had been heading, and the knot in her chest tightened when she found it. There he was, and he was not alone, of course.

On his arm was a very familiar raven-haired witch, Chelsea Corningwood. What on earth was she doing here with him? Her mind raced to all of the things Malfoy might tell the young reporter. Just then, the pretty witch looked over, locking eyes with Hermione. Shit! Hermione didn't know what to do, panic was setting in and she didn't even have the mental capacity to alert one of her friends to the situation. Corningwood's face lit up in an instant, removing herself from Malfoy's side, she made a B-line for Hermione's table.

As she closed in, Hermione glanced past her to Malfoy. He hadn't even seemed to notice his date was missing, engaged in conversation with a short stumpy wizard Hermione didn't recognize. Damn him! Why couldn't he keep his latest pet on a leash, far, far away from her? Steeling her nerves, she regained her composure just in time to kick Ginny under the table, drawing her attention at last.

"Miss Granger. Seems I have caught you at last."

"So it would seem, Miss Corningwood." Her tone was polite but clipped.

"Come now, no need for that. Please, call me Chelsea." Hermione had no intention of getting on a first name basis with the woman. Like a knight in shining armor, Ginny spoke up before Hermione had a chance to open her mouth and tell her exactly that.

"Sorry, this table is invite only, no press allowed. Why don't you just scurry along, dear." The bite in her voice was impossible to miss, but Corningwood ignored her, continuing.

"You know, I had the most interesting conversation just the other day about you." Hermione gripped the edge of the table. This was it, she was going to hear the horrible things Malfoy had told her. "I happened across Draco just as he was discussing your little elf charity with my uncle." What? "Seems he recently dismissed your request for funding." Her eyes were shining brightly, glee apparent on her face, as Hermione reddened. Her anger was not at the witch in front of her, but her ferret of a date. He was dismissing their agreement?! How dare he! And without so much as an owl from either Malfoy.

Her eyes shot past Corningwood, across the pub to Malfoy. Perhaps he felt the heat of her stare because it was then that he turned around and noticed his date was no longer at his side. He scanned the bar, eyes finally landing on her own. Oblivious to the venom in her glare, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly, until he noticed his date's presence at the table. His mouth tightened as he pushed his way through the crowd toward them.

"You know, if you would finally agree to that interview, Hermione, I'm sure I could change his mind for you-" She yelped as Malfoy grabbed her hand, pulling her back and away from Hermione and her friends.

"Just what do you think you are doing all the way over here, love." He spoke through clenched teeth, but the young reporter didn't seem to notice. She began rattling on about something, but Hermione wasn't paying attention, solely focused on Malfoy's eyes. He was mad. No. He was furious, and so was she. Without his donation, Hermione's proposal would be denied. She had already presented the financials to Shacklebolt.

The Wizingamot knew Malfoy was a listed supporter, she couldn't replace him. For him to pull his backing now would ruin her and S.P.E.W. There would be no third chance given. She was going to be sick. She stood and stormed away from the table, fleeing as quickly as the crowd would allow toward the loo down the hall. She had almost reached the door when her path was blocked.

"Move Malfoy!" she shouted.

"No." His voice was calm, but there was a question in his eyes.

"Dammit! Just move. Leave me alone. Haven't you ruined me enough? The least you can do is move!" She was breathing heavily, finding it hard to control her magic for the first time in years. Oh, how she hated this man in front of her. His eyes darkened to an almost impossible shade of coal, causing her to gasp. As she did, her magic pulsed forward, visibly pushing Malfoy back. Every muscle in his body clinched, and she felt his magic push back against her own.

As their magic mingled, something changed. Instead of feeling her magic pushing still, she felt a sharp tug, as if attached to a string, pulling her toward the tall, angry wizard. He appeared to have felt the shift as well, his body language changing, and his face relaxed. With his jaw no longer clenched, his lips fell apart slightly, drawing her eye. A heat radiated across her skin, as their magic no longer fought, but danced.

His tongue flicked out, dampening his bottom lip, and she instinctually mimicked his action. As soon as she did, his eyes melted into mercurial pools, and she felt a sudden heat grow in her abdomen and her eyes trailed back down. His lips. She couldn't take her eyes off of his lips, and she found herself wondering how they would feel, moving against her own. In the darkness of the narrow hall, it was taking every bit of her willpower to fight her body's reaction to the blonde wizard in front of her.

She shouldn't react this way to this man, so she kept her feet firmly planted, ignoring the almost magnetic pull of his magic. She had never felt a force like this before, not that she had much experience with men. Despite the length of their relationship, most of her time with Ron, they spent apart. A lot of snogging and a handful of fumbling attempts in the bedroom hardly qualified her as an expert on the laws of sexual attraction, but she had never felt this pull with Ron. Or with Krum. Sure, Blaise's advances had gotten her a little hot under the collar, but still, no pull.

A group of drunk witches stumbled down the hall behind her and in the process, knocked into her back. The sudden jolt enough to uproot her feet and send her, once again, into Malfoy's chest. This time he caught her, encircling his arms around her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her arms shot up to his chest, and she clutched the fabric of his robes. Once again, she did not push away. She could feel his breath heavy on her neck, causing her curls to dance across her skin. Her whole body was tense, but the affectionate way his nose began to nuzzle her jaw caused her body to relax in an instant. Against her better judgment, she breathed in his trademark scent and sighed. Instantly, his lips were on her neck.

He began to suck on her sensitive flesh, nipping at it lightly, before peppering the bruise with soft kisses. Hermione hummed, and he trailed those kisses higher, his tongue occasionally flicking out to taste her skin. What was he doing to her? What was she doing? Allowing a man such as this such liberties, but she simply couldn't bring herself to pull away. Not when he was doing such marvelous things with his tongue

She released the fabric of his robe, relaxing her hands until they rested against his chest. But when he found a particularly sensitive bit of flesh by her ear, she couldn't stop from digging her nails in deep. A feral growl rumbled in his chest and he bit down on her with equal force. A mixture of pain and pleasure shot from that spot and through her entire body. She moaned, and he lavished his tongue across her skin soothingly. Body moving of its own accord, she tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access.

Her mind was no longer working, allowing her to fully enjoy the attentions her body was receiving. Sensing her acquiescence, Malfoy continued to devour her. Reaching her ear, he took its lobe between his lips. His tongue flicking it quickly, biting down gently, pulling it taught, before releasing it from his lips with a sucking pop.

Their combined magic pulsed around them, swirling, mixing, dancing across her skin in warm rhythmic waves. She felt as if she was on fire, burning from the inside out, all the while Malfoys lips moved against her, his tongue like both fire and ice as he tasted her, feasting on her flesh. She wanted more. Needed more. Desperate to feel those lips on hers, to taste him on her tongue.

A door slammed open behind them, as the same group of witches made their way back out to the pub. The abrupt noise ending the trancelike state of bliss between the pair. They broke apart, breath ragged and hearts racing. They stood in silence as the women passed, oblivious to the state of them.

Hermione struggled to catch her breath and regain her senses, but once she did, panic and shame washed over her. How could her body betray her like that? How could her magic!? She looked into those eyes, seeing nothing but lust.

She gasped again, this time in horror at her own actions, and she watched as his face contorted in rage. Hermione dropped her gaze, unable to look at him any longer, as she willed her heart to stop racing. She caught sight of his arms, clenching rhythmically as they had at the manor. What had she done? It was Malfoy who moved first, stepping purposefully around her without a word, and back into the crowded pub.

Just then Ginny appeared, grabbing her arm and turning her around. "Are you ok Hermione? I passed Malfoy on my way to find you. What did he say to you?" Hermione's hand shot up to her neck, her fingers trailed the path his lips had taken and then landed on the tender flesh behind her ear. It was bruised from his bite, she was sure of it, and she didn't want her friend to see. How would she explain it? She couldn't even explain it herself. Her body was still hot and flushed, but there was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that had just moments ago drawn her to the blonde wizard.

"Nothing, Gin. He didn't say anything." Ginny looked questioningly at her friend, not believing her, but she didn't press on. Instead, she led Hermione back to their table. She glanced around the pub as she sat, taking care to keep her neck covered by her hair. Lavender noticed Hermione searching the bar.

"She's left with Malfoy," the young witch pointed out. "Just now and trust me, she knows not to invade your privacy again." Lavender smiled proudly. "She thinks she is so clever, using her dear family to try and bait you into an interview." Hermione's head shot up.

"What do you mean?"

"Just because her uncle is the Director of the Quidditch Committee she thinks that gives her the same influence on him." Hermione gasped. Oh no. The International Director of the International Confederation of Wizards' Quidditch Committee. Branchwood.

"Tobias Branchwood is her father?" Lavender and Ginny both looked at her in shock.

"Yes! Did you not know?" Hermione's face flushed with embarrassment. She hadn't. She didn't follow Quidditch. It was only on the advice of her boss that she contacted him with a request to review her proposal. He had been one of the first to deny his support.

> Perhaps in a few years' time, should your passion project remain, you may submit your proposal for a secondary review at your convenience.
> 
> We wish you luck in your endeavors.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> T.D. Branchwood

"No. I guess I was more focused on her attempts to unearth some sort of scandal, I didn't bother thinking about who her uncle might be." She hadn't meant for her words to come out so harshly, but her friends didn't take offense.

"A pretty low blow to bring up his dismissal of you though." Her eyes widened, and Ginny's narrowed at her reaction.

"Yes. Her father's dismissal. A low blow indeed." Corningwood hadn't meant Malfoy was dismissing their agreement, she was talking about her father. Hermione had jumped to the wrong conclusion and snapped at Malfoy. No wonder he had been surprised by her anger toward him. But it was a reasonable assumption, wasn't it? But then, nothing about Malfoy ever seemed reasonable to her. She was brought out of her reverie by a familiar voice.

"Sorry we're late," Harry spoke from the end of the table as he made his way to Ginny, placing a tender kiss on her cheek. "Meeting ran long, but I see you didn't waste time getting started without us. A drink was placed in front of her, and she looked up to see Ron, a toothy grin on his face. He moved and began handing drinks to everyone else at the table before taking the seat in front of her.

"You alright, Mione? You look lost."

"Just had a run in with that Corningwood woman," Ginny spoke for her.

"Bloody hell!" Ron Exclaimed. "I thought she finally left you alone." His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Hermione expectantly. She smiled meekly and shook her head.

"It would appear she is more persistent than we thought. But no worries. I think Lavender scared her off." Lavender beamed at her statement.

"Snakes should know better than to try and take on a pride of Lions, right?" Everyone at the table laughed, before dissolving into casual conversation. Hermione took a long sip of the butterbeer Ron brought her. As Harry and Ron began talking about their latest progress on their case, Hermione allowed her mind to wander back to Malfoy.

She had been wrong to assume he would back out of their contract, and she hoped she hadn't caused him to consider doing so now, but that wasn't the thing she was most concerned about. It was the invisible force that had caused her body to betray her mind. The one that had inexplicably consumed her, and him. The one that resulted in his lips on her neck, making it impossible for her to refuse him.


	24. Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

Her heart was racing; Her pulse beating in her ears as her face flushed. A burly wizard muttered something that sounded a lot like 'silly witch' as she tripped on her heels, sending her shoulder into the middle of his back. She apologized, and all but ran in the opposite direction. Damned shoes. Why today, of all days, had she finally decided to wear the blasted things? She clumsily made her way through the crowd, head down, breath heavy, until she reached the nearest stone column.

Once there, she flattened her front against it, wishing she could sink into it and dis

appear. She did not. After a few calming breaths, she peaked her head around the corner, searching the atrium. To be honest, she wasn't even sure where she had run off to. She took in her surroundings and sighed when she realized she had ended up almost exactly where she started, by the lifts. Maybe that was a good thing though. If he intended on finding her, he would asdume she was far away by now, not a mere few feet. Right?

One more scan across the Ministry's main level satisfied her, and she spun around, pressing her back against the column now. She felt like a coward. She felt like a child. But she still couldn't face him. And why, suddenly, was he there so much? Or was she only now noticing how often he visited the Ministry. The week's events flooded her mind, and she considered going home.

Perhaps she could owl Ginny as well, convince her to leave practice early to take her mind off everything. But then, of course, Ginny would _insist_ on knowing what was going on. Hermione Granger did not cut out of work early. And she most definitely did not encourage others to do the same.

She spent most of the prior weekend desperately dissecting her latest encounter with Malfoy, beginning with the half smile from across the pub and ending with his anger as he left her alone in the darkened hallway. But mostly she thought about her magic, the way it exploded outward from her core in anger before meeting his. The way it merged with his own and seemed to dance around them.

She thought about that place deep within her. The one pulling her toward him, without thought or reason, and against sound judgment. She remembered the moment his lips touched her neck, and the way they moved across her skin, claiming her.

Despite time spent, she had come no closer to understanding the shift that occurred in those moments. And she was no closer now, five days, one 'conversation', and three pathetic escapes later. He had been at the Ministry every day this week. And every day, she saw him.

Monday was the worst. She had been the last to leave the conference room after Mathilda's _riveting_ presentation on changes due to the latest round of employee turnover. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was not one most witches and wizards stayed in longer than they had to. She and Charles were quickly becoming the most tenured employees, and that wasn't saying much.

Hermione always took her time after meetings, gathering her things quietly and allowing the masses to exit first. That day, however, there was someone waiting for her. Charles, from Beast Division. He stood in the doorway, anxiously fidgeting with something in his pocket. While his behavior was odd, she thought nothing of it when he offered to walk with her.

She like Charles. He was a hard worker. Kept mostly to himself. But he was friendly and kind, and funny in an unintentional sort of way. He had been 2 years ahead of her in Hogwarts. Hufflepuff she believed. They chatted amicably as they walked the halls heading toward her office, both detailing their progress on legislative changes they were pushing for.

As they made the final turn to the row where Hermione's office was located, Charles stopped and moved to face her. He appeared to be at a loss for words but was desperately trying to find them. Suddenly it clicked in her brain, he was trying to ask her on a date. She almost wanted to take pity on the poor bumbling wizard, thinking to ask him out first, but the words stuck in her throat, and she just couldn't manage it. Odd.

Before she could wonder why, and before Charles found his voice, Hermione felt herself being moved across the hall to a small break room. After receiving a final shove, she heard the door close and lock, and felt the magic of a strong _muffiado_ as it washed over the room. Regaining her balance, the shock of the situation wearing off, she spun toward the door, wand out, to face her assailant. She was only slightly surprised at what she saw.

Malfoy. He was pacing, muttering under his breath as if rehearsing lines. Hermione almost lowered her wand at the sight of him, but then, thought better of it, deciding instead to go on the offensive.

"What's wrong with you, Malfoy? You can't go around kidnapping Ministry employees!" He turned to face her, mask firmly in place. And when he spoke, his voice was steady and calm.

"It's a wonder, Granger, that you accepted my money at all, if you think so little of me."

"What do you-" she started to defend herself, but quickly paled when he interrupted her. He was right. She was wrong. And those were the facts.

"Quiet! You lobby for equal treatment. Seek to amend outdated laws. And above all else, work tirelessly to prove yourself. You say you want to end prejudices in the wizarding world, but that's a lie. You only concern yourself with those directed at you and your little pets. You could give fuck all about the rest of us. You really thought I pulled my support? Why? Because I'm a Slytherin?" He paused. "Because I was a deatheatter?" Another pause. "Or because I'm a Malfoy"

She sucked in a breath and his eyes began to burn. His magic sparked around him, causing the hair on her arms to stand on end. "I thought so." His voice was no longer calm. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, tossing it on the table beside her. Written across its front was her name, in tight formal script.

Hermione looked back to him, wanting so desperately to be able to see through that façade. "You may have been on the winning side of the war, but you're no better than me. In fact, you're worse." He took a step forward. "I accept who I am. _What_ I am, and the world sees it too. They don't know what you are, or the secrets you keep. Perfect Hermione Granger. Golden Girl of the Golden Trio. Brightest Witch of our Age. They don't see you as I see you." Another step forward. "Troubled. Frightened. Angry. Confused." Another step. "And they didn't _hear_ you as I heard you. Whimpering. Gasping. Desperate for my touch."

His next step brought him mere inches away from her face, and she could take it no longer. Her wand arm had fallen by her side, forgotten, as she searched for something, anything to say. She wanted to be angry, to yell at him for presuming to touch her as he had, regardless of her assumptions about him. But she couldn't. She made no attempts to stop his ministrations then, so she had no argument now.

She had to leave. Had to get out of here and away from him. With all of her strength, she shoved him back, and as he stumbled, she ran around him, snatching the envelope off the table before unlocking the door and racing to the lifts, tears falling silently down her face.

Tuesday she read the letter. It was from Branchwood offering a hefty sum to S.P.E.W. Malfoy was holding up his end of their arrangement. He had promised more than funding. She saw him that afternoon, on her floor, talking in hushed tones with Mathilda in the hall. He almost caught sight of her, but she ducked into an empty office just in the nick of time. She stayed there, frozen against the door, for half an hour.

Wednesday she hid behind a plant outside Harry's office. She needed advise. And while she still had no intention of letting anyone know the sorted details, Harry knew Malfoy, and she needed direction. Instead, she got a face full of branches and leaves as she watched the two wizards laughing outside his office. Peculiar. The interaction ended with Harry clasping a hand on the blonde's back. Malfoy didn't hex it off.

Then there was today. Thursday. She was returning from lunch with Lavender when the lift doors opened and brown eyes met grey. He stood there, staring at her blankly, and all she seemed capable of was bolting away from him, only to end up behind this blasted column.

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as she counted to 10. Once her heart rate slowed, she opened her eyes, only to have her heart jump and begin racing again. There he was, leaning carelessly against the stone wall opposite her. His arms were crossed, and he wore that same impassible expression on his face. Insufferable git. He was staring at her, and it suddenly felt as if they were the only two persons there. The footsteps and voices of those around them fading away into the distance.

All she could hear was the hammering of her heart, and she wondered if he heard it too.

"I didn't know lions were afraid of snakes," he bit out. His words were harsh, but his tone was calm. She searched his face and body language for a sign. For any hint of feeling, but she found nothing, as if he himself was carved from the same marble that surrounded them now. Cold. Smooth. Emotionless. Unblemished.

"You don't frighten me, Malfoy." It was a half-truth at best.

"Then why are you running, little kitten?" His head cocked slightly, but his facial expression remained unmoved. She didn't have an answer to his question, not one that she could give at least. Nothing that sounded convincing.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She stood straight, attempting to portray more confidence than she felt in his presence. But she wobbled slightly on one of her heels, twisting her ankle, and she winced. Damned heels. Damned Ginny. She should have never let that witch talk her into buying these things. She would chuck them in the bin as soon as she got home.

Shifting her weight to her other foot, she faltered slightly, but then, Malfoy was at her side. He took her elbow in his hand, allowing her to steady herself. She looked down at her shoes first, casting a judgmental look, before allowing her eyes to trail upward, to where Malfoys hand encircled her arm. Heat was radiating off him, traveling from her elbow through her body, and settling in her chest.

Without warning, her shoes leveled against the stone floors, and her feet sank slightly into their soles. She exhaled as she felt the sharp pain in her ankle ease, and she adjusted her weight again, removing her arm from Malfoy's grasp. That's when she noticed his wand, hanging loosely in his hand by his side, but aimed at her feet. He cast some sort of spell on her shoes, but he hadn't spoken a word. She looked up and finally met his stare, and he read the question in her eyes.

" _Molliare."_

"Cushioning charm?" she questioned. "But that's for use on-"

"Broomsticks, yes, mainly. But it has other uses too, Granger." She tried again to search his face, but he still wore his mask.

"What else?"

"What do you mean?" The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, the beginnings of either a smile or a smirk, she wasn't sure.

"You cast more than just _molliare._ I can feel it." She watched his mouth spread wide. It was a smile. And it made her heart flutter.

"Clever as always, Granger." Then he moved away from her, turned and headed toward the lifts. She started after him, ever the avid learner. She wanted to know what other charms he used. Perhaps she might keep these shoes after all. She followed him as he stepped onto the lift and took hold of the handle next to him.

The lift jolted back, and she gripped the handle more firmly, so as not to bump into him. Her shoes were steady against the floor, and she noticed the difference again. What was that charm? She chanced a glance up at him. He faced fully forward, not looking her direction, and the lift stopped at the next level, doors opening as witches and wizards entered and took their place around them.

Finally, they reached her level, and Malfoy stepped forward and out of the lift. She followed him again, her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. "Malfoy!" he turned to face her now. And saw a glint in his eye. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

"Tell you what?"

"You know what." He was teasing her, obviously. And she was growing more and more impatient with the wizard.

"I'll tell you what," he paused, a finger tapping his lips thoughtfully. "You stop hiding from me, confirm a date for our next meeting, and once our business is concluded, I'll share my helpful little charm with you."

She considered his proposal. It was reasonable. And she really should move past her embarrassment. They would be working together now. It was unavoidable. She couldn't continue to run the opposite direction every time she saw him.

"Deal." Malfoy extended his hand, and she hesitated only a moment before reaching to shake it.

"Deal," he replied. His hand was warm and soft, and he skimmed her fingers lightly as they withdrew from their handshake. He stepped around her and back in the direction of the lift.

"Where are you going?" Her question shocked them both. Had she expected him to follow her? He quirked an eyebrow at her and smirked.

"Level 2. Magical Law Enforcement." Then with a nod of his head, he stepped back onto the lift. She watched Malfoy as he took a spot at the front of the lift and fixed his gaze back on her. So that was why he was there. She was relieved he had not simply come to see her, and she breathed a little easier. But, there was a pang of something in her chest. What was that feeling? She pushed it aside, whatever it was.

The last thing she saw before the doors closed was his grey eyes, dancing with laughter behind his mask of indifference.


	25. After Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an overactive imagination

Hermione was in her bedroom when she heard the fireplace roaring to life. She stepped into the living room and was greeted with the stern face of Harry Potter.

"Why were you hiding in the plant outside my office yesterday?" Hermione froze as panic welled up within her. "Don't lie. I saw you there. You've been acting odd. And I think it has something to do with Malfoy."

Hermione sighed and took a seat on the sofa and looked to her childhood friend. Harry was more observant than people gave him credit for. A lifetime of pain and loss gave him an uncanny ability to read people, but he rarely confronted them, instead allowing others to come to him when they needed him. It was one of the things she loved about him. He didn't force the issues. Most of the time.

"I haven't mentioned it to Ginny or Ron. But, you know you can talk to me, Mione. About anything. So out with it." She grabbed a throw pillow, setting it in her lap and wrapped her arms snuggly around it. Mustering her courage and swallowing her pride, she began.

"It all started that first trip to Malfoy Manor…"

Two hours later, her voice was hoarse. Harry sat in the chair to her left, eyes wide and jaw slack. "Say something." She whispered. Clearing her throat, she summoned a glass of water from the kitchen.

"I think it's time to tell you a little more about my dealings with Malfoy."

* * *

Harry stood in front of the massive wooden doors. He hadn't thought it right to floo this time. His monthly tea with Narcissa was one thing, but Malfoy's invitation to the manor felt different, so he chose to apparate outside instead. He knew the wards would allow him past the front gate.

The door opened, and he greeted the familiar elf. " Master is in the library. He is telling Tootsie Master Potter should find him there." Harry thanked the elf and made his way through the twists and turns of the grand house. Despite all his time spent here, he would never grow accustomed to its size. Perhaps it was the memories of war that still haunted his dreams, or maybe it was a childhood spent under the stairs.

Malfoy sat behind a large desk to one side of the library. Parchments and books stacked high around him as his eyes scoured the pages of an ancient-looking tome laid open before him. Every so often he scribbled something on a parchment, the scratching of his quill filled the quiet of the room. He cleared his throat, and the blonde wizard's eyes shot up. Harry watched him as he sat down his quill, leaning back in his chair.

"Thank you for coming." His voice strained, and he ran a hand through his hair. It was longer now than in school, and Harry realized it made him look older than his years. Malfoy motioned him over to the seat across the desk, picking up his wand and sending most of the books floating through the air back to their shelves.

"You said it was important." He paused. "And urgent."

"It is."

"Have you found a way to end the life debt?" Malfoy shook his head. "Family business?" Harry questioned. There were only three things the two men ever discussed, the settling the life debt, restoration of the Malfoy and Black family names, and Narcissa. Malfoy shook his head again. "Then what?"

"I know Snape trained you in occlumency, but did your lessons ever include legilimency?" Harry's eyes furrowed. He mostly tried to forget his lessons with Snape. They reminded him of his forced connection with Voldemort and the horrible things he saw.

"No," he shook his head apologetically, "He only tried to help me close off my mind from outsiders." Outsiders, as if the wizard didn't realize to whom he referred. "Why?" Malfoy again ran his hand through his blonde hair and harry suppressed a smirk as it caused several strands to stand on end.

"I'm in need of a Legilimens, obviously." Malfoy snarled, but quickly steeled his expression as he saw the condemning look on Harry's face. He signed again. "Circumstances have transpired which put me in a unique state. I've scoured every text I can find and have not been able to rectify the situation on my own. I believe I can find some, relief, through occulumency, but I need a trained Legilimens to assist in creating and testing certain barriers within my mind. Seeing as every Legilimens we know died in the war, I was hoping Snape passed some of his knowledge onto you."

Harry looked at the man in front of him, only then noticing the dark circles under his eyes, and the stubble across his chin. He looked tired and lost, and it made Harry's heart ache for the man. He learned much of this man's struggles through Narcissa, and he had grown to respect the wizard, in an odd sort of way. A person becomes who they are through their own experiences, and the cards had been stacked against Malfoy since birth. Though born into money and prestige, he had only the influences of higher pureblood society to guide him in his most formidable years. He was raised to believe these ideals were law, only to have his world torn apart.

Their two lives, completely opposite. Where Malfoy grew up told the world was his for the taking, Harry had been hidden away from the world, told he was nothing and no one. Malfoys childhood had been full of promise, family, and society. Harry's, condemnation and solitude.

Harry found his family and a loving home at Hogwarts, and as a new world unfolded around him, he drew strength from it all. Malfoy found no such thing. His world remained much the same as it always had been, until Voldemort returned, and then his world shattered. It was not the world or the life he had been promised by his father. It was not one of power, but one of suffering and slavery and pain.

Harry felt he would be sick the first time Narcissa told him of the torture. After that he began noticing the signs. It wasn't hard to see if you knew where to watch, but no one thought enough or cared to look at him that way. Malfoy was trained to avoid weakness, or at least, the appearance of it. This was accomplished primarily through his façade of indifference. His mask. Every Malfoy had one, including Narcissa, though hers had a softer, more feminine appearance. The key was not to unmask the man, but to ignore the mask completely.

His hands would shake. An effect of prolonged time spent under the cruciatus curse. Harry caught sight only a few times, because as soon as Malfoy realized it, he would slide them to his pockets, disguising the move with infuriatingly nonchalant body language, as if he hadn't a care in the world. But if you paid close enough attention, you could see the unsteady movement still.

Then there were the headaches. Harry wondered if they feltlike the fits of pain he once felt through his scar, or if they were more severe. Those remained harder to pinpoint, but Harry soon learned they were visible in the pulsing of his temple, in conjunction with the tightening of his jaw and neck muscles. This seemed to affect his behavior the most, and Harry suspected it was because he was fighting to keep his wits about him.

Regardless the events that made them the men they were today, fate it seemed, decided to throw the former foes together again. The more time they spent in each other's company, the more Harry thought he saw of the young, carefree boy who once offered him his hand in friendship. Typically it was a rather well-placed comment on Malfoy's part that broke the tension. His jokes were rather clever, and once you got used to his dry wit, it was hard not to laugh, even when it was at your own expense. Harry would snort, or laugh, and eventually Malfoy would follow suit. He wouldn't call them friends, but they were no longer enemies.

Sitting in the dimly lit Malfoy library, listening to this man asking for his help, Harry felt compelled to assist. One way or another. "I could make some inquiries," he offered. Malfoy stood and walked to the fireplace. One hand on its mantle, he hung his head, watching as the fire danced across the logs.

"I've been making inquiries for months. Do you think I would be asking you if there were other options? We've hardly the best history, and I'd really rather you not enter my mind, yet, here you are. You are the best of very few options." Despite the slight insult, Harry had to admit, he had a point.

"Perhaps there's another way to make the necessary changes, without legilimency, with occulumency alone."

"I've already tried that, and as of the end of the war, I'm the most accomplished Occlumens in the wizarding world." It wasn't an exaggeration, and it wasn't a boast. Harry knew from his lessons with Snape what it took to become so skilled. Malfoy had been young, not yet powerful enough to block out imposing forces by sheer barricades alone, as Dumbledore had described. Emotion made you weak, so he shut certain ones off. It had been his only defense, his only chance at survival. Compassion. Pity. He could afford neither, so he learned to bury them, deep within the recesses of his mind. Was that what this was about? Was he attempting to reverse years of suppressed emotion? That would be dangerous for anyone, but especially for someone as controlled as Malfoy.

"I can hear your heart bleeding from here, Potter. Stop it. Your hero complex is of no use to me."

"I'm rubbish at academics. You know that. All practical application for me, but Hermione," Malfoy's shoulders tightened at her name, but Harry continued. "If there's any information available, anywhere, Hermione can find it. And she would do it too. I'd talk to her, you wouldn't even have to ask her. But, but you'd have to tell me exactly what it is you're trying to do. Hermione doesn't go into anything without all the facts. That's why she's so good at, well, everything." He chuckled slightly as he considered his friend.

"No." was Malfoys only reply.

"No?"

"No to Granger." Harry stood, surly this wizard would not dismiss her help based on blood status alone. It was preposterous, and he wouldn't stand for the insult. Before he made his way over to Malfoy, the blonde held up his hand in mock surrender.

"Merlin, I still forget how reactive you Gryffindors are at times. Don't get your knickers in a twist, it's not that I don't believe her capable or beneath me. Salazar save me, she's brilliant." Harry's jaw dropped at the admission. He was trying desperately to come up with a clever joke at his expense when Malfoy was unexpectedly in front of him, finger pressed firmly into his chest as he stared down into Harry's eyes. "Don't you dare tell a sole I said as much, Potter. I have a reputation to uphold, and I would hate for your feisty fiancé to come after me when she realizes I've removed your bits for blabbing."

Harry couldn't help it. He tried not to laugh, but only succeeded in sputtering all over Malfoy's immaculate robes. "Gryffindors," he sighed, shaking his head at his unexpected ally. "Bloody fools, the lot of you." Harry only laughed harder as he watched Malfoy clean the spittle from his robes, a horrified and disgusted look on his face.

"You really need to loosen up. Hows about a drink?"

"You know where it is." Malfoy waved a hand in the general direction and made his way back to the desk. Harry poured them each a glass of firewhiskey, handing one to Malfoy before taking a slow sip from his own glass.

"I expect you want to know what this is all about?" Harry shrugged noncommittally. "I'll Avada you if you utter one word."

"I wouldn't dream of it, mate."


	26. Hermione's Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.  
> Don't hate me after that last chapter, please. lol. I know, I know, such a tease!

Harry leaned back in his seat and adjusted his glasses as Hermione waited for him to continue, but he merely sat there, looking back at her.

"WELL?!" She finally burst out. Harry only raised his brow in response. "Harry Potter! You are NOT going to leave out the most interesting part, and quite frankly, the only part of your story I cared to hear about!" She fixed her most severe gaze on her friend.

"What did I just say, Mione? He swore me to secrecy."

"Then what was the point of telling me this?" She huffed.

"To show you, you're not alone."

"What? Did you two _snogg_ in the hallway after?" Unbelievable. Secrets, literally direct from the mind of Draco Malfoy, were within her reach, and all that stood in her way was the blasted Chosen One. And he wasn't talking!

Harry rolled his eyes. His friend didn't like it when she didn't get her way, but he had made a promise that night, one he intended on keeping.

"The POINT," he continued, "is there is more to Malfoy than the bigoted prat we grew up with. And to let you know, I see it too. We aren't in school anymore. You can work with him, Mione. He really is quite good. He works hard enough even to satisfy the likes of you. He will keep up his end of the contract. And he can be civil."

Hermione sighed and grabbed the throw pillow again. He was right, of course. Running and hiding was pathetic. She appreciated Harry telling it like it was. She needed that. Plus, she supposed she had still learned something useful about the infuriating ferret.

She had no idea he suffered echoes of that barbaric unforgivable curse. That was one thing, she supposed, she could file away for later. But Harry had ignored the elephant in the room, the part of her admission which pained her the most. So, she sat. Silent.

Harry's hand moved to his face, pushing his glasses up, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His elbow rested on the armchair, and he rested the weight of his head against it.

"As far as…. the incident at the pub." He exhaled. "Merlin, I don't know. He's messed up right now, and so are you, kind of." Hermione's jaw dropped, and Harry quickly backpedaled. "I mean, not like that! There's nothing wrong with you, I just meant, what with Ron and…. You, you just, you know?" His eyes were wild and desperate as he searched for some sort of understanding on Hermione's face.

And as much as she wanted to feel insulted, and as ill as he worded it, she realized what he meant, and he wasn't wrong. "I know, Harry." And she saw relief wash over him.

"It was probably just odd timing." He continued, but she didn't miss his odd phrasing. "I wouldn't worry yourself over it happening again. I mean, come on, it's Malfoy. And you're, you're Hermione. You're about as opposite as two people can get. He was probably drunk." Now she felt offended. Harry was saying a wizard like Malfoy shouldn't be attracted to her? Because she was, her? Not that she wanted Malfoy to want her.

"And what about me?" She questioned. "What does it mean that I didn't stop someone who apparently so could not possibly want me." Harry missed the sarcasm and bitter tone in her voice.

"You're lonely, Mione." Harry moved to sit on the sofa next to her. He tried holding her hand, but she jerked it away. She didn't want his pity. She wasn't lonely. Well, not that lonely. And it explained nothing.

The door to her flat opened and Ginny stormed in, tossing her quidditch gear to the floor as she sat down with a huff. Hermione cringed, noticing the layers of mud caked on her friend begin to break and fall. Her friend had lousy timing.

She began ranting about some witch and her appalling excuse for sportsmanship. Hermione listened politely, but half-heartedly, he mind wandering on other things.

She had a meeting with Malfoy the following Monday.

* * *

He wasn't late this time. At precisely 11:30 she heard a knock on her door. This was a good sign, she thought. Perhaps there would be no games this time and she could get through this meeting with her dignity intact.

All hopes of that vanished the moment he stepped through her door. Her eyes widened, and a familiar heat began to pool in her chest.

Draco Malfoy was wearing muggle clothes. Jeans to be exact. Well, he was wearing more than just the jeans, but Merlin, he was wearing the hell out of those jeans. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip as he took the seat in front of her and began rummaging through a worn leather messenger bag. As he did so, she could see the muscles in his arms and shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt, a black Henley.

This was bad. Images of that body pressing into her own flooded her mind as if triggering something primal inside her. Maybe there had been more truth in Harry's words than she thought. Maybe she really was lonely if all it took was a fit wizard in muggle clothes to get her worked up. But, Malfoy! Wearing jeans! Her brain couldn't process it, so she continued to stare.

"Stop it, Granger." He hadn't looked up, and she was thankful for small blessings.

"Uh." She couldn't formulate a response.

"I had business in muggle London this morning. It took longer than I expected, and I didn't have time to return home first. And I know how much you appall tardiness." That's when he looked up, a glint in his eye, as he sat his bag on the floor, a small card in his hand.

"I didn't know Malfoy Industries did business with Muggles." Malfoy scoffed.

"We don't. Do you think this would be appropriate business attire? Even I know this would be inappropriate for a business meeting in the muggle world. It was a personal errand. Now, let's move on." She thought her eyes might pop out of her head as she pictured Malfoy, walking down the streets of London in those spectacularly tight jeans. He adjusted himself awkwardly in the chair, and Hermione giggled.

"Not used to muggle fashion though, it seems?"

Malfoy fixed her with a narrowed look. "No, and I don't ever hope to become accustomed to it. Muggle clothes are incredibly uncomfortable." His nose crinkled, causing Hermione to laugh outright. He almost looked...cute.

"If you can't remain a professional about this, Granger, I'll reschedule our meeting." He moved to leave, but Hermione shot up from her seat to stop him. This was the best thing that could happen. The strange turn of events had alleviated most of her anxiety over this meeting.

"No, please. Stay. Sit. What was it you wanted to discuss?" He seemed irritated still, but appeased by her apology. He leaned forward, placing the small card he still held on the desk in front of her. She read it, and then looked back to him, quirking an eyebrow.

"Your mother is throwing me a ball?"

"Not you, S.P.E.W." he replied proudly. She didn't quite understand. "You truly are rubbish at politics aren't you, witch? You have you're funding. That's a start. But you need more than just that. You need buzz. You need to get the public excited about it. You need to shmooze. There will be a lot of powerful and wealthy wizards attending. You want your name on their lips and you want them reaching into their pockets as well."

"But, we already have enough money-"

"For now," he interrupted. "But this is only the beginning stage. You have to think long term. It simply won't do, having to campaign every time you want to begin a new initiative. Think of S.P.E.W. as it's own business entity. You need to have a reserve of money in the vaults, and I am laying the means before you. It's not really about dancing. Gala's never are. It's about a bunch of rich old wizards showing off and trying to outdo one another. Whether it's their home, their mistress, or the contents of their vaults, it's always a show. You will simply give them an easy way to demonstrate their wealth, by separating them from their galleons."

"Sounds….dirty," she bristled, and Malfoy's lips spread into a deep grin.

"Sometimes it pays to get a bit dirty, Granger." The way he said her name seemed to vibrate within her, his words themselves sounding filthy as they left his soft pink lips.

"I don't know how to do this," he arched an eyebrow. "shmooze, that is."

He flashed a toothy grin and leaned back in the chair, hands resting on the back of his head, elbows spread wide. "That's what you have me for. I was raised for this, I've already got you one new supporter, and I'm an excellent teacher. You'll have my mother there as well. She's spectacular in action. My father would never have grown the company as he did without her on his arm."

Interesting, she thought. She never dreamed this was part of pureblood witch's upbringing. She didn't like the idea of tricking people out of their money, but she couldn't argue that she could use the publicity of an impressive event. And she was sure this would be much grander than anything she could put together on a Ministry's budget.

"Ok," she said. He clapped his hands together with a grin, he was quite animated today. Perhaps it was the clothes.

"Excellent. My mother will be arranging it. I'll have her send you the guest list. Feel free to add anyone. The Manor can more than accommodate the additions, I'm sure. I'll keep in touch as well. There will be a few things we need to review to get you ready. But I've got another meeting. I should be off." He stood and turned to leave, and her eyes landed again on his rear. What was happening to her?

"Wait! The date. June 3rd. That's only a fortnight away. Can't we push it out a bit further?" She looked over her calendar as he eyed her wearily. "How about, June 11th? That's another full week, so it will give us more time to-"

"No." Her head shot up, and she was surprised to see his face masked again.

"But why?"

"The date is set. My mother has already begun setting appointments. June 3rd, and no later." His tone gave no room for debate, but Hermione would not back down, not this time. She stepped out from and around her desk, stopping only when she was standing directly in front of him, hands on her hips.

"Why does EVERYTHING always have to be your way, Malfoy? And why are you always so severe? It was only a suggestion to give us more time to plan an effective event. It's fine if your mother has already made commitments to that date, but you could just say so, rather than getting all huffy about it." His face remained unmoved, and she started to turn away, but then a new wave of anger washed over her, and she squared her shoulders, pointing a slender finger into his chest.

"This is MY project, Malfoy! MINE! It would do you well to remember that. And that means I have the final say in what happens with it. Me, not you!" She poked him again. He looked down to her finger, as it dug into his chest, then returned his eyes to meet hers. They were cold, and it sent a shiver down his spine, but she did not retreat.

"You are an investor, and I appreciate your support, but this all began with my proposal and my hard work. So next time, ask me, don't tell me. If you have a problem with that, then you can take your galleons and go, go…. go sit on your broom handle for all I care!"

Hermione took a small step back, breathing in deeply and lowering her hand. Her resolve faltered slightly when she noticed the rigid stance of his body. It looked odd, wrapped from head to toe in muggle clothing instead of wizarding robes, but it was just as cold. Just as imposing. And it made her feel just as small. But she knew she was right. She had a point. He could not bark orders at her and she would not allow him to take control of her work. No matter how amazing his arse looked in jeans.

Malfoy nodded. "As you wish." And then exited her office.


	27. Malfoy's Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.   
> Those of you who have read my one-shot His Mask might recognize some of this chapter.   
> Hint. Hint.

Hermione lost count the number of owls she received from Narcissa. She had no idea the amount of detail involved in planning a fundraising gala. It reminded her of planning her wedding. The wedding that never came to be. Overall, she contributed very little, simply agreeing with whatever Narcissa recommended.

Malfoy owled her only once. It was a list of information on some of the guests, with instructions to commit it to memory. It was quite detailed and organized, containing backgrounds on each wizard, their family, interests, and investment histories. She had to admit, it could all be useful in gaining their support.

He requested no additional meeting. And offered no apology for his behavior at the last. She hadn't really expected one though. Filing the papers away in her desk, she sighed. She didn't feel up for being social tonight, but it was Andromeda's birthday, and Harry invited her to accompany him and a handful of Weasleys to her house for dinner. At least she would get to see Teddy. He was getting so big.

She didn't see the young boy as often as she would like. Harry doted on his godson, and that pleased Ginny to no end. She saw it as training for their future together. Harry was going to make an excellent father. As happy as Hermione was for her friends, she couldn't help the pang of jealousy she felt at the sight they always made. Harry playing with Teddy, Ginny glowing as she looked on.

She picked up the small package laid on her desk, wrapped in shimmering gold paper. It was a book, of course. Her friends laughed each time they unwrapped one. 'Typical Hermione' they always said, but Andromeda was different. She loved to read wizard and muggle books alike. She was very intelligent, and now that she knew Narcissa better, Hermione realized it must have been a valued trait in the Black household.

She stepped through the floo and into chaos. Harry was chasing Teddy around the room, laughing as Teddy squealed in delight. Ginny, Andromeda, and Lavender sat on the sofa, watching the pair with smiles. Hermione made her way over to them, embracing the eldest witch as she handed her the gift.

"Another book?" Ginny grinned slyly, and Lavender giggled.

"What else?"

Ron was in the corner, sipping a glass of firewhiskey as he talked with Bill. Fleur stood beside her husband, bouncing little Victorie on her hip. Hermione made her rounds, greeting each of her friends before settling into conversation with Molly and Author.

* * *

Hermione yawned. She had overdone it this week, and she wondered how much longer the gathering would last. Andromeda loved the book; the most recent in a muggle murder mystery series by Sue Grafton.

Hermione was just about to take her leave, eager for the refuge of a good night's rest, when she heard the whoosh of the fireplace. The noise drew everyone's attention. And there was an audible gasp as the late arrival stepped through.

"Dwayo!" Teddy shouted, running as fast as his short chubby legs would allow, stopping only when his body collided with the legs of Draco Malfoy.

There was another whoosh. "Cissy!" Andromeda exclaimed. "You came!" She stood, and the two women rushed forward, stopping for a moment before embracing each other. Malfoy stood awkwardly by the fireplace, Teddy still holding on to his leg as he giggled, bouncing up and down with glee. Malfoy leaned down, ruffling the boy's hair with his hand, and the room gasped again as the boy's brown hair turned to a familiar shade of blonde.

The tall wizard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden dragon, handing it to the boy. Teddy took it immediately, squealed, and raced over to Harry and Ginny, showing his gift off proudly.

Andromeda led Narcissa to a seat, making introductions along the way. Their eyes shone with tears, and no one could deny it was a touching scene. Sisters reunited.

Hermione looked back to the Malfoy heir. Despite the confident look on his face, she could tell by his body language he was uncomfortable. She heard Ron mutter behind her to Bill. "Who invited that git?" She turned to hush him, condemn him for his rudeness but smiled broadly when Fleur beat her to it.

Bill made his way across the room to Malfoy. And the two stood there, an odd expression on each of their faces before Bill offered his hand. Malfoy took it without hesitation, and Bill clasped a hand on his back with a smile. "Firewhiskey's this way, mate." And with that, the room roared back to life, filled with lively conversation.

She watched him the remainder of the evening, tracking his every move and noting the changes in his behavior. He seemed to be getting along with everyone, even managing a civil conversation with Ron. He smiled politely and laughed whenever someone made a joke.

She hadn't intended on staying so long or drinking so much. But the wine was delicious, and the man was infuriating.

She tried to join in a few times, to engage him in the same easy conversation as her friends, but each time she approached him, he changed. His eyes would glass over, and his expression would steel. It was infuriating. That mask. Tonight, he dropped it for everyone but her. Why? What had she done to be singled out so harshly?

She found herself unable to stand another minute of his feigned indifference, of the mask he usually wore to shield his emotions from the world, tonight directed only to herself.

She had always hated it, the icy grey eyes, and that sneer, it was worse than his smirk. She was once accustomed to it, but now that she had seen him without his mask, she despised it, and each time she saw that masked expression appear on his face, she wanted nothing more than to break it apart.

In her inebriated state, she decided his rage the strongest tool for the job.

So, she began baiting him, contradicting him at every opportunity. Pointing out faults in his arguments and scoffing at his jokes. He sneered at her, but he did not break. She taunted him, mocked him, but while she watched as the mask cracked, it still did not shatter.

Oh, how she wanted to see it shatter, to see the ice in his eyes melt away and to feel the pulse of his magic against hers. She remembered how it felt, surrounding her and setting her body on fire. It was like a drug.

Her behavior was making her friends uncomfortable, but she didn't care. They would chalk it up to lingering childhood resentment and animosity. Except for Harry they had no idea the extent of her recent encounters with the wizard. She stayed the course, all the while oblivious to a pair of pale blue eyes shadowing her every move.

He excused himself from a particularly heated debate over the Chudley Cannons' roster and made his way down the side hallway to the loo. As soon as he was out of sight, she excused herself and missed the knowing look on Narcissa's face as she made her way down the same hallway.

Hermione stepped into the study and waited. She heard a door open and close. Followed by the approach of footsteps. The moment he stepped in front of the open door she grabbed him by his arm, pulled him inside and closed the door with a flick of her wand. They would settle this. She would break the mask here, now. All she needed was time.

They stood there, mere inches from each other in the dark room. On the other side of the mahogany door, they could hear the chattering of their friends and family, still enjoying the party, blissfully ignorant of the storm brewing within the small room.

The air was heavy around them, thick, as his eyes bore into her own. Searching. She wouldn't falter, wouldn't back away. Then suddenly, something within him snapped, and she watched as those grey eyes melted into pools of mercury. It was different than before though. It was something more desperate and primal. It was lust. At that realization she gulped, but rather than stepping away, she stepped forward. And that was all he needed.

His hand went to her hair, clutching the mess of curls at the base of her neck and forcing her chin up, exposing her neck to him. She gasped as he began planting feather-light kisses on her exposed flesh, starting at her throat, and gradually moved further and further up her neck.

When he reached her pulse point, she couldn't fight back the moan that escaped her lips. Malfoy began savagely attacking the spot, lavishing his tongue across the tender skin in manic patterns before suckling it. Another moan and his hips thrust forward of their own volition, grinding against her.

A warmth was growing in her belly, and she rocked her hips back against his. His assault on her neck stopped suddenly, and she heard a deep growl that seemed to radiate from his chest. The next instant his hand traveled down to her hip, angling her slightly, and with a slow, torturous turn of his hips, she felt his hardness pressed against her abdomen.

Merlin this man was sin on legs!

He continued grinding against her at the same slow torturous pace and returned his attention to her neck. Trailing kisses down and across her shoulder. When he reached her shirt, he growled again, biting the offending fabric with his teeth and tearing it across and over her shoulder.

She heard fabric ripping, but she didn't care. With even more skin in front of him, he trailed his tongue across it, teasing and nipping at the flesh as he went. Hermione was growing impatient.

She wanted to know his lips on hers, to taste that talented tongue, but each time she attempted to pull his head away from her neck, he sunk his teeth into her collar, and then ran his tongue across the mark it left. The alternating pain and pleasure making her lose all sense of purpose.

Withdrawing the hand from her hair. He grasped her hips, lifting her before pinning them in place with his own. Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around him and the moment he grabbed her earlobe between his teeth, she bucked her core against him, relishing the pleasure of his length against her core.

He chuckled, holding her hips firmly in place as he began flicking the lobe with his tongue, slowly at first, then with more and more speed. Her head was spinning, her body and her actions no longer her own.

Hermione had never felt so reckless before in her life. He sucked her lobe into his hot mouth and she whispered a breathy 'please.' She didn't know what she was begging for, but he instantly moved his hands from her hips and began making quick work of the buttons on her blouse, as he trailed bruising kisses down her neck, across her chest, and then trailed his tongue lightly between her cleavage. 'Yessss' she moaned, and she could feel his smirk against her skin.

He opened her blouse next, exposing her lace bra, and kneaded her breast in his hand. His mouth hovered over the other, his damp breath pulsing against her, causing her nipples to pebble under the lace. All at once, he took one peak between his teeth and rolled the other between his fingers with delicious pressure.

The heat in her abdomen was growing, as he pushed her closer and closer toward the abyss, and with a hard pinch, and a long suck, she came undone. Bright white flooded her vision as she pulsed against him. He rocked his hips against her in time, prolonging the ecstasy as she babbled incoherent promises into his shoulder.

Slowly coming down from the high, she lifted her head from his shoulder and was met with those same molten eyes. His breathing was ragged, the muscles in his neck and shoulders taught, strained. He was restraining himself, searching her face again for something. What was it he kept searching for?

Then they heard voices outside the door, calling her name, causing her to tense in panic. At her reaction he released her, stepping away and hung his head. The voices faded away, as her friends traveled further down the hallway in search of her. She stepped toward him, hand reaching out, but he stepped back, and when he lifted his head to again meet her gaze, the mask was back. That damned mask.

Her skin tingled in the aftermath of her orgasm. Never had she come apart in such a way, she hadn't even known it was possible.

She should say something, she thought. But before she found any words to speak, he spun on his heel, and she watched his back as he opened the door. His shoulders straightened, and he cast one last steely glance at her over his shoulder before he stepped through the doorway and disappeared from sight.


	28. Does She Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

Hermione stood in the darkened doorway of the study, trying to comprehend all the things that had just occurred. Her face was still flushed, and there was an odd knot in her chest. The experience seemed surreal, as if she watched it happen to someone else, rather than being a willing and eager participant. But she had wanted it. Needed it. And the evidence still lingered on her body, from the bruises on her flesh, to her ripped clothing, down to the dampness of her knickers.

She could smell her scent, mixed with the lingering smell of inks and parchment that she had come to associate with Malfoy. And she wondered if she would ever be able to smell one, without thinking of the other.

She heard her friends making their way back down the hallway, and her senses returned to her. She could not allow them to find her in such a state. Reaching for her wand, she repaired the collar of her shirt and did her best to cast a glamour on her neck and chest. Hopefully it would conceal all of Malfoy's marks. She didn't know what to do to dry her knickers, so she vanished them.

She stepped out of the study just in time to come face to face with Ron and Bill. "Mione! There you are!" Ron spoke. Exhausted and clearly a little drunk. "We looked all over for you. What were you doing in there?" Hermione wracked her brain for something to say. Ron looked at her expectantly, and she couldn't help but look away.

"I think I drank too much. I just needed a quiet place to sit for a while." Ron seemed to accept this, his smile returning as they walked down the hall together. Bill remained silent by his side, studying her with a scrutinizing gaze. Hermione pointedly ignored him, her step quickening the closer they got to the party.

Was he still there? Should she say something to him? Should she not? Surely people did not...do...what they had done without discussing it. But Malfoy wasn't just any person. He never had been. But now, he was something...more.

The Malfoys were saying their farewells as she entered. It seemed the celebration was coming to a close. Probably the reason her friends had come looking for her. As the blonde pair made their way over to her, she felt as if her legs were made of lead, unable to step forward to meet them as the others had done.

And she suddenly had no idea what to do with her hands. Every position felt awkward and unnatural, her palms were sweaty as she finally held them together behind her back.

Then she caught his eyes, and her stomach sank. He was unreadable again and she wondered how on earth he could be so cold, so calm. Narcissa moved to Hermione and embraced her warmly.

"I feel we barely had a chance to talk this evening, Hermione dear. I will owl you tomorrow and we will have a proper chat." Hermione returned the hug but could not speak. "And I promise, no business talk." She pulled away with a wink and a smirk, instantly putting Hermione on edge.

Merlin! Did she know? Did everyone know? She wasn't even sure how long they had been gone. Her heart began to race again, and it was becoming hard to breathe, but a sudden warmth began to radiate through her, stemming from her hand, and she realized it was Malfoy.

He was all formality as he brought her hand up toward him, bending stiffly at the waist, his lips met her knuckles, and Hermione could have sworn time stood still. She stared, wide-eyed, at the wizard who only moments ago brought her to such great heights with such little effort.

His lips lingered slightly, and then she felt a cold chill run through her as he blew over the wet mark his lips had left. She shuddered, and he looked to her, lowering her hand. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, before dropping her hand completely and stepping away. He took his mother's arm and they made their way to the fireplace, Malfoy leading his mother in first before handing her a small pouch of floo powder.

Once Narcissa was gone, he stepped in himself, turning once more to face them all. "I rather enjoyed myself this evening." Eyebrows across the room shot up. "We really must do this again," he locked eyes with Hermione, and she saw they were no longer cold. "Very soon."

Tossing his own pouch down, he called out his destination and disappeared into the green flames. She returned her attention to her friends, wondering if it would look suspicious if she too took her leave. That's when she noticed some of the looks she was getting.

Harry stood by Fleur, holding little Victorie, yet his attention was all on her. His face was stern, fatherly. He jerked his head toward the now empty fireplace and then raised his eyebrows at her. She didn't have to guess his question, and she was not looking forward to the inevitable conversation.

She turned away, seeking refuge, but instead saw Ginny looking at her through narrow eyes. Beside her, Lavender and Andromeda whispered quietly, before looking her way and quickly avoided eye contact.

So focused on those in front of her, she failed to notice the tall red-head beside her. He lowered his head slightly, inhaling deeply. His eyes grew wide, and he immediately walked over to his wife and friend. Taking the infant from the latter, he leaned down and whispered into the wizard's ear.

"Does she know?" he asked? Harry looked questioningly for a moment, but when Bill looked over to Hermione, and then back to him, realization dawned on him. He cast a woeful glance to his best friend before replying.

"No."

* * *

An hour later, Hermione stood defeated in her bathroom, having decided she needed a shower. She tried in vain to scrub her body of his scent, to replace the memory of his hands on her with her own. But the warmth of the water only reminded her of the heat he ignited within her body. How had it come to this?

She had done this. It had been her doing, and at the same time, her undoing. She wanted to _learn_ about the wizard, to _understand_ him. She had never imagined she would find herself wanting _him._

She wiped her hand across the cool mirror and examined her body. Having removed the glamour, she could now see every mark he left. Bright bruises and bite marks littered her collarbone, and she absentmindedly trailed her hand across them. She considered leaving them there, perhaps only for a day. She wasn't sure why, but something about them made her feel powerful.

She had shattered his mask, made him lose control, quite possibly for the first time in his life. But at what cost to herself?

Quickly, she grabbed her wand and healed the marks before she changed her mind. She couldn't leave them there, she knew. It would raise too many questions. Questions she did not have answers to.

Dried and dressed, she opened the bathroom door and was met with familiar narrowed eyes. Ginny stood, arms crossed and foot tapping in the hallway, blocking Hermione's path.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. Shocked to see her friend. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," was all she said.

"Well, yes, I know that," Hermione stammered, "but I thought you'd have gone to Harry's. That is where you stay most nights." The red-head narrowed her eyes further, and Hermione wondered how she could see at all through such small slits.

"What's going on with you and Malfoy?" Hermione's jaw dropped at the bluntness of the question. "I'm no fool. Something's going on. Something's changed." _Ohno ohno ohnoohno!_ "I saw it, when he and his Mother left."

"What do you mean?" She hadn't mentioned their disappearing off together, maybe she didn't notice. Or maybe she was testing her.

"Well I certainly didn't get such an _intimate_ goodbye. None of us did." Ginny's expression softened slightly, a grin spreading across her face as a mischievous glint sparkled in her eye. "And I couldn't help but notice you didn't jerk your hand away, Mione."

"I-I. Uh-"

"Merlin's Beard I was right! You fancy him! Don't you?" Hermione was both relieved and horrified. Yes, she had picked up on their attraction to each other, but that was all. She didn't suspect they had _acted_ on that attraction. Twice.

Ginny took Hermione's silence as confirmation. Her eyes widened, and her hands shot up to cover her mouth. Hermione hugged herself and allowed her shoulders to sink, preparing herself for the onslaught.

Ginny grabbed her by the hand, pulling her all the way into the living room, and gently shoved her down on the sofa. She disappeared into the kitchen and Hermione looked questioningly in the direction of the red blur.

"Gin!" She shouted after her. "What are you doing?" A moment later, Ginny emerged with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a box of sweets. She sat down next to Hermione with enough force to make her bounce on the cushions and began pouring them each a glass.

"If we are going to do this, we are going to do it the proper way!"

"Do what?" Hermione asked, wary of her friend's enthusiasm.

"Hermione Jean Granger! Never, in all of our years as friends, have we sat down and giggled over one of _your_ crushes! I have waited half my life for this moment." She shoved a glass into Hermione's hand. "Now, we are going to drink. You are going to talk. We will eat chocolates. You will blush, and I will giggle." Though her words were quite childish, her demeanor was all business.

As embarrassed as Hermione was, she could not have been more thankful for a friend like Ginny Weasley. Right here, right now, it didn't matter how old they were. It didn't matter exactly _who_ they would be discussing. They weren't concerned with the past, or with the future.

There was no judgment or harsh words as Hermione conceded, sipped her wine, and began describing, in great detail, how delicious Draco Malfoy looked in muggle clothing.


	29. Muggle Mysteries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

As promised, Narcissa owled the following morning. Hermione cursed elvish wine as she made her way to the window, letting the owl in and taking the letter. She and Ginny had finished off the entire bottle the night before. And now, after an evening of hypothesizing what it would be like to spend an evening with the Malfoy heir, she was invited to tea with his mother.

She knew there was no use in trying to decline. Narcissa was as stubborn as her son, only politer. She owled her acceptance and began searching for something to wear. In the process, she wondered if she would see Malfoy, the thought making her much more mindful of the outfit she picked out. She wanted to look nice, not just for Narcissa, but for him. She found herself wanting to make sure he didn't regret the night prior. Didn't regret her.

Ginny was still asleep, and Hermione was grateful. She didn't want her causing the same fuss over her as she had prior to her dinner with Blaise. Their wine-fueled girl session the night before had done a great deal to settle Hermione's nerves. Not once had Ginny reprimanded her for taking a liking to the Malfoy heir. It had been as if the years of animosity between her friends and the blonde never occurred. There was no mention of house rivalries, of deatheaters, of war.

It had surprised Hermione greatly, her friend so willing to put such painful memories to the side and simply enjoy the moment. Ginny was right, never before had they sat up discussing boys, in all their years at Hogwarts or in the time since. Yes, there were times she had been a shoulder to cry on as Ginny pined over the Chosen One, in the years before he had the courage to act on his growing feelings for the red-head. And they rarely spoke of her relationship with Dean.

Hermione hadn't spoken much about Victor, to anyone, which is why everyone was so surprised when she accompanied him to the Yule Ball. She was not the type of girl to fawn openly over members of the opposite sex. Other than him, it had only ever been Ron who drew her attention, and it seemed an odd thing to discuss with his sister.

She felt guilty for not telling Ginny the full story. But Ginny didn't ask, and Hermione did not volunteer it. Lying through omission, she thought. They did not discuss altercations that occurred between the two over the course of the past few months, focusing only on his physical attributes. It was if they were discussing someone else, a nameless face in the crowd, the _idea_ of the man.

Hermione knew Ginny would have reacted differently, had she divulged much else. Had she learned the true way her body reacted to him, the way she craved his touch, even now, she would have exploded in the way only a Weasley can. It was one thing to fantasize about a fit wizard, it was another thing entirely to give your body over to Draco Malfoy. Because that's all this was a purely physical desire. Nothing more. She hadn't been intimately touched by a man in _months._ It was only natural for her body to require attention. Wasn't it?

She tiptoed through their flat, careful not to make too much noise and wake her roommate. Making herself a cup of coffee, she drank it quickly before making her way into the living room and flooing to Malfoy Manor.

As she stepped through the fireplace, she was greeted by the sight of not just one, but two Malfoys. Immediately, her heart began to pound against her ribcage. They sat casually on a small sofa, and Hermione realized she emerged in a different room than before. Rather than the house's imposing foyer, she had immerged in a smaller, but still impressive sitting room.

Narcissa set down her cup of tea before floating across the room to her. Malfoy had been reading, and he sat the book down softly on the table to his right before following his mother. Their posture and mannerisms were different somehow, but she couldn't put her finger on the exact changes. Perhaps it was all in her head, and she simply _felt_ they were acting differently. But then they greeted her.

Narcissa placed a soft hand on each of Hermione's shoulders, before kissing her lightly on the cheek. Before Hermione had much time to process the action, Narcissa was stepping away, and Hermione found herself face to face with Malfoy again. He bowed, low and stiff, before taking her hand, much as he had done the night before, but this time, the kiss to her knuckles was brief, and he did not linger before releasing her hand and stepping back beside his mother.

"It's a pleasure to have you for tea." He was all politeness and formality.

"Yes, dear. So good to see you this morning. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Seems we simply could not go without the pleasure of your company for much longer, I'm afraid." Hermione smiled tightly at her hosts. It felt like she had stepped out of the fireplace and into one of her Victorian-era novels, and she only barely stopped herself from looking down to see if her modest dress had transformed to include something more fitting, like a corset and bodice.

Hermione straightened and nodded toward the pair, trying to exhibit some sort of poise and grace, though she was certain she failed miserably. "Thank you for the invitation."

"Come, sit." Narcissa moved to her side, taking her by her elbow and lightly directing her to the now empty sofa. Malfoy waited for them to pass, before trailing behind. Once Narcissa had deposited a very confused Hermione on the sofa, Malfoy moved to her side, holding her hand as she took the seat beside her. He then moved to sit, in a plush high back chair to his mother's left.

Tootsie appeared with a pop, and tea was served. Narcissa tittered on about this and that, who was dating whom, upcoming social engagements, and things of that sort and Hermione couldn't help but wonder. Why the sudden change? Their prior conversations had been intelligent and stimulating. Hermione found this type of conversation tedious.

Malfoy sat quietly, for the most part, offering the occasional nod, or hum of agreement whenever he was addressed. Hermione was keen to steer the conversation away from high society talk. To be honest, she was rather curious about the Malfoys' recent reconnection with Andromeda and Teddy. Certain the disinheritance of Andromeda was a tender topic, she opted for beginning with young Teddy. At the first mention of children, Hermione made her move.

"Children do grow up so quickly, don't you agree? My, it seems like only yesterday we were putting young Draco here on the train to Hogwarts for the first time." She smiled fondly at her only child, and he, in turn, smiled meekly.

"Absolutely. I think Teddy has grown a full 3 inches since I saw him last." Narcissa's face lit up at the mention of her nephew, but Malfoy seemed to tense.

"He truly is a remarkable young boy, is he not? So full of life. I enjoyed meeting him very much. With that blonde hair, he reminds me of Draco." Hermione then turned her attention to the stoic wizard.

"He seems to like you very much. He doesn't change his hair for just anyone, you know?" Malfoy began to shift uncomfortably in his chair. Hermione was onto something, and she wouldn't stop until she unraveled part of the mystery that was Draco Malfoy. "Do you see him often?"

"Yes." She waited for him to continue, but he instead focused his attention on his teacup. He was not going to make this easy. She was not surprised.

"Since when?" The blonde wizard quirked one perfect eyebrow at her, a small smirk beginning to form on his face. She grinned back. He had caught on. He knew what she was doing, trying to catch a glimpse of the man behind the mask.

She saw it as a challenge. He saw it as a game.

"I don't fully recall," he set his cup down on the table and leaned back into his chair, every inch of him exuding confidence. "For some time now. I'm surprised you weren't already aware, Granger." She shivered at his use of her surname. It was the first time he used it all morning.

"I don't make it a habit to go prying into the lives of my friends."

"Don't you?" The smirk was full on his lips now, and a mischievous glint shone in his eyes. Narcissa sat silently on the sofa between them, watching the exchange with a smirk of her own.

"Are you counting yourself among them?"

"Among whom?"

"My friends, of course." Hermione leaned forward, no longer concerned with manners or etiquette. If he wanted to play, she was happy to oblige him. And she would win.

Malfoy leaned in, mirroring her posture, making the exchange feel more intimate than it really was, but at that moment, she forgot his mother sitting beside her. "I should think so." His voice was low, almost gravelly, and she felt it in her chest. She watched as his tongue darted out, moistening his bottom lip, causing her to bite her own.

A dainty _'Ahem'_ echoed through the room, and they both straightened automatically, eyes darting to the elder witch. She said nothing else, simply sipped her tea with a small smile. She did not move to change the conversation, so Hermione continued, slightly red in the face.

"I haven't seen you at any gatherings prior to last night."

"I prefer spending the time with my family alone." Hermione cocked her head thoughtfully. That made sense, especially since their reunion was a recent one. He had never even met his aunt until the end of the war she supposed. Reading the soft expression on her face, his smirk fell and was replaced with something else; not quite a smile, but something kind. "And aren't most of these _gatherings_ at the Burrow?"

"Well," she started.

"Is this the part where you tell me my invitation was lost in the mail?" Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out. He was right. And she felt foolish, but as she looked into his eyes, she found no malice there. No resentment, but something more akin to, acceptance?

She suddenly felt a need to lighten the mood, their conversation weighing heavy in her chest. But she could not abandon the conversation entirely. He had let her in, ever so slightly. Shared something real with her. For her to change topics now might appear a rejection, and he would never let his guard down again.

"No, you're too intelligent to believe some excuse as silly as that. So, tell me, do you always arrive bearing gifts for your cousin?"

"Why yes, dear. Draco dotes on him wholeheartedly, much to my sister's dismay I believe. She is under the impression he aims to spoil the boy." Her voice was light and somewhat teasing as she raised her brow at her son. Malfoy bristled at her words, and Hermione wondered if this was some sort of praise common among purebloods.

"Yes, well, the boy should have the best." Typical, Hermione thought. Some things about Malfoy would never change. He always enjoyed flaunting his family's wealth. She rolled her eyes, but then returned her gaze to Malfoy. He had slumped slightly in his seat, the volume of his voice lowering as he continued. "He will be the head of our families one day."

What did he mean? Hermione tilted her head again, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Narcissa's body language had changed. No longer was she poised formally on the seat beside her. Her body was tense, angled toward her son, as she fixed him with a meaningful stare. She watched in awe as a non-verbal discussion occurred between the two. Only their eyes moved, ever so slightly, and she wanted more than anything in this moment, to know what was being said.

As the silence lingered, she began trailing her eyes across the room, finally landing on the table to her right. There sat the book Malfoy had been reading, and she gasped audibly as she read the cover.

_P is for Peril_

_By Sue Grafton_

It was the exact book she had given Andromeda. At first, she was shocked a muggle book would be allowed in the pureblood home, much less that one of its residents would deem to read it. But then, she was overcome with a wave of anger. Had he stolen this book? Surely, he must have. How else would it have come to be here, today?

She picked up the book and began waving it at Malfoy. "And just _where_ did you get this?" Her outburst interrupted the inaudible conversation between mother and son. They both turned to look at the object in Hermione's hands. Narcissa's face was calm, no shock or question in her gaze, but Malfoy looked slightly amused, that was until he registered the fury in her voice. Then it became defensive, as did his tone.

"The table, just there." Her irritation grew.

" _Obviously,"_ she drawled, "seeing as that's where I picked it up. I mean, how did it come to be in your possession? Did you seriously nick my gift to Andromeda?" His jaw clenched, and she could see the vain in his neck pulsing with each beat of his heart.

"Are you really accusing me of theft? In my own home?" The tone of his voice was severe, but Hermione, sure in her deduction, did not back down.

"How else would you have a _muggle_ novel?"

"I PURCHASED it!" he roared, and Narcissa moved to settle her son, an arm reaching out to his leg, but he stood then, and in two large strides, stood in front of Hermione. He ripped the book from her grip, tucking it into the crook of his arm. "For Andromeda to be exact. But as I learned last night, she had already received a copy." Hermione inhaled sharply and held the breath in her chest. Oh no, she had done it again. She jumped to an incorrect assumption based on her own prejudices. The gears in her head began to turn, seeking to connect the dots of the information laid before her.

She exhaled slowly, her voice barely audible. "Your personal business in muggle London." It wasn't a question, but she still looked to him for confirmation, and her stomach knotted at the sneer on his face. He didn't respond, only stared at her with cold grey eyes before turning to his mother.

"Excuse me, Mother. I'm not feeling well." From this new angle of his face, she could see his temple pulsing, his eye twitching minutely. She remembered Harry's telling of his late-night meeting with Malfoy in the Library, and her eyes traveled down his face where his jaw and neck muscles tightened. He had moved his hands to his pockets as well, and her heart sank. His headaches. Had she caused this?

Without another word, he turned from the two witches and stormed out of the room.

Hermione felt her eyes well up with tears. She had done it again. How many times was she going to ruin the progress she and Malfoy were making. Every time, she had done something, said something accusatory, sending him away. It was almost second nature, and she never knew what was happening until it was too late.

She turned to Narcissa, and the elder witch looked her over with a pitying expression. "I'm so sorry, Narcissa," Hermione whimpered. "I'm sorry. I just, I didn't think-"

"For such an intelligent witch, Hermione, you seem to have a hard time seeing what is right before you." Hermione hung her head, ashamed of her own behavior. "If you will excuse me, I need to go check on my son." Hermione knew it was time for her to take her leave. So she did so, muttering more apologies as she made her way back to the fireplace.

Narcissa watched her carefully as she retreated, only acknowledging her apologies with a nod of her head. Once in the fireplace, Hermione looked back to her host, drying her tears with the back of her hand. "I know he's furious, but please, tell him I really am sorry. I should not have accused him like that."

"No, you should not have, however," she paused, and Hermione could feel a tiny spark of hope within her. "Some preconceptions are so deeply ingrained within us, from such a young age, that they are difficult to overcome. But it is not impossible. All one needs is time, and an open mind."

As Hermione returned to her flat, she could not help but feel Narcissa was speaking on more than just the book.


	30. Puzzle Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination.  
> I'm so glad you all have enjoyed these last few chapters. I was really nervous when I posted them, since we are taking H D's relationship to a new level. You all have flooded me with your questions and ideas about what's going on with Malfoy. Is he a Veela? A Werewolf? Are they somehow Magically Bonded?  
> Would you believe me if I said it was none of these things? At least not entirely. I'm taking Draco a direction I've never seen in the fanfictions I have read before (Although I'm sure it's quite possible someone else has written on it) and I really hope that you enjoy where we go, as Hermione FINALLY begins to learn why he's been behaving so strangely.

Hermione sat in her office, trying hard to pay attention to what was coming out of Charles' mouth, but her mind continued to wander back to a certain blonde wizard. Yes, she had behaved horridly toward him and in front of his Mother, but it was understandable, wasn't it? She could not be expected to change her opinions of him overnight.

Her moment of self-redemption quickly faded. Even she could see the hypocrisy. She expected more of others. She should expect more of herself. Prejudices were prejudices, no matter what side of the war you had been on.

_"You say you want to end prejudices in the wizarding world, but that's a lie."_

Her hand floated to her neck as she remembered the tenderness there she felt so few days ago. Something knotted in her stomach. She missed them. She missed…. _him_. She had to get through this, had to push forward and decipher the mystery of this man so that she could move on. So she could move past this, this, whatever it was she felt for Malfoy.

Across the desk, Charles cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. She hadn't spoken to him since the day Malfoy drug her away. She doubted, after such an encounter, he had any intentions of attempting to ask her out again. But that didn't bother her. He was nice enough, definitely attractive, but she felt no spark, no pull.

Returning her full attention to him, she sighed as Charles finally came to the point of his visit. He was being sent on assignment, to America, for three months, and Hermione was to take over the majority of his workload. Wonderful, just as S.P.E.W. was finally taking off, she would be adding a full workload on top of her own.

But of course, she smiled, assured him she was capable of handling the increased responsibility. He breathed out, long and soft, as relief washed over him, and he handed her a large stack of papers.

'I've outlined everything that needs following up. I've known this was coming for some time, so I was able to conclude the majority of my business with the Wizingamot. There's only a few loose ends that need your attention on these while I'm away. And, of course, the need for any new initiatives are entirely at your discretion. I've also included a copy of my appointment book."

Hermione flipped through the book, skimming over dates, names, and times. There weren't that many appointment set, but that wasn't surprising. She smiled as she saw Lavenders name on its pages. The same date and time every week. She was glad her friend still made use of their counseling services. She hoped she did not mind Hermione stepping in while Charles was abroad.

"Well, I've got a few more things to do today, then I'm off. Sorry for the late notice. I hope it's not too terribly inconvenient." They both stood, as Charles began to leave, but before she could wish him safe travels, her attention was drawn to her doorway, as a flash of white-blonde hair travelled past.

Was that him? Was he really here? No, it couldn't have been him. Why would he even be here? It wasn't for her. He had not returned any of her owls. Not since tea. But that hair. It had to be him. Why was he at the Ministry so often?

Her mind raced. She thought back to all those times she saw Malfoy at the Ministry. And all the times she _thought_ she might have seen him. Very few of those times had he been there with the intent to visit her. A handful, she knew, he visited Harry. But that did not account for them all. What was it that kept bringing him here? And what brought him so often to her Department? She had seen him talking with Mathilda. Did he know her?

He had some sort of business at the Ministry. Regularly. That meant something. It had to! She felt the gears of her mind as they turned slowly, bit by bit, they slid into place. But there was something, more, that seemed just outside her grasp.

She thought more on the wizard himself. Not his words, or overall behavior, but the small things. The things she recognized, but never returned to reflect on. She broke each moment apart, piece by piece.

The time his eyes darkened to an alarming shade of coal. The quickened pace of his heart; no not that. The quickened pace of _her_ heart. The feel of his hands on her hips.

_Damnit! Not now, she thought._

The animalistic noises originating deep within him. The powerful, raw force of his magic. When she was in each of these moments, she attributed these oddities to his rage, or more recently, to his lust. But…maybe….

Her eyes refocused, and she saw Charles still standing in the middle of her office, examining her curiously. Her friends always told her she wore an odd expression when she was deep in thought. They found it entertaining to watch. No time to ponder on what Charles might think of her now though. She was close to something. She could feel it.

Her eyebrows furrowed, thinking back to stories she was told by others. Narcissa. Harry. Occulmency. Legilimens. The secret! That was it. That was the piece she was missing; whatever Malfoy asked for Harry's help with. That's what she needed to uncover. And once she did, she was certain everything else would make sense. All the pieces would fall into place. All of it.

She ran around her desk and flung her arms around Charles, hugging him tightly as he stood stiff from shock. Pulling away, she planted a hard kiss on his cheek before rushing out the door, shouting a quick goodbye to a very confused, very pink Charles.

Hermione burst through Harry's door and two sets of eyes shot up. Harry and Bill looked questioningly at the brunette. She was slightly taken aback by Bills presence but chose not to think on it. She was a witch on a mission, and this time, she would not be deterred.

"I need to know what Malfoy told you that night at the Manor." Harry's eyebrows shot up into the fringe of his messy hair, and Bill cast a somber glance to the wizard.

"I should go." And he leaned in closer. "And you should tell her. She should hear it."

"YOU TOLD BILL!?" Hermione's face flushed with anger as she stepped further into the room. "I can not believe you, Harry Potter!"

Bill made his way slowly to the door, nodding his head at the young pair. "Just keep an open mind, Hermione, for everyone's sake." And then he was gone. His words rang in her ears, so like Narcissa's just days ago. She sat down stiffly in the now empty chair across from Harry. She watched as he rubbed his temples, a pained expression on his face.

"You know, if Malfoy really curses me, you'll have Ginny to answer to."

"Spill it, Potter," And her friend winced at the unfamiliar use of his surname. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair.

"I'll tell you most of what I know." Hermione opened her mouth to object, but he silenced her. "I will NOT tell you everything, Mione. If you want to know more than I'm willing to share, then you can ask Malfoy yourself. And don't try to say you can't talk to him. I don't know what is going on between the two of you, and I'm not sure If I _want_ to know, but _something_ happened that night at Andromeda's. In the interest of my own sanity, we will skip that bit for today. Agreed?" Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head in agreement. Harry continued.

"Something happened to Malfoy, after the war. Something the Ministry has no record of ever having occurred before. It's left him," he searched for the right word, "afflicted. Ever since, he's been trying to find a way to minimize the effects. No spells or potions can help. What happened, it's, it's a part of him now. I told you before, all he wants is control of his life back. After everything he's been through, I'm inclined to believe he deserves that."

Hermione's anger had subsided, taking in every word Harry spoke. She agreed, Malfoy did deserve it. He had always been at the whim of someone else's control, beginning with his father. Then it was Voldemort, and ever since the war, in a way, Harry's. His words echoed through her mind.

_"Choices. Everyone deserves a choice; regardless how inconvenient those choices might appear to others. Every creature should be given a choice."_

"Malfoy asked for my help because he had no where to turn. He would have never called for me if he had any glimmer of hope through other means. He's already indebted through the life debt, he doesn't want to owe me more."

"So, whatever this _affliction_ is, there's no getting rid of it? There's nothing you can do?"

"He's spent a fortune tracking down every lead he can. Worked with heads of every relevant department in the Ministry. There simply isn't a precedent. He's the first. If it was anyone else, I would tell him to deal with it. We all have our own scars and burdens to carry, but he won't have it. It makes him unbalanced, he says, unlike himself."

This really was it. This was the cause for his erratic behavior. Her mind raced at what this all could mean. She would finally have her answer, understand the man behind that damned mask. And once she unraveled the mystery, she could put this all behind her, put _him_ behind her.

"Harry," her voice was softer now, almost pleading. "What happened to him?"

Harry reached for his wand, locking the door and silencing the room. At this, she scooted forward in her seat, her pulse racing in anticipation.

"You remember the stories about the Forbidden Forest, right?" She cocked her head slightly. The Forbidden Forest? What did that have to do with anything?

"Yes Harry, I remember the forest well." Harry rolled her eyes at her matter-of-fact tone.

"But do you remember the _stories_? The ones they told us to keep us away?" She nodded her head again. "Now, we know not all of them were merely stories, but I had no idea this one was true. Dumbledore always had a fondness for those without a home."

His eyes shown with tears, and they both took a moment to remember their former headmaster. Once that moment had passed, Harry blinked away the tears, and continued his tale.

"Not long after he became headmaster, Dumbledore was called upon by a pair of former students. Fate was not kind to these two, both attacked by a savage werewolf during a full moon while on holiday abroad. They were both young, and afraid to tell anyone of the attack, and Wolfesbane was even harder to obtain then. They didn't take precautions leading up to the next full moon, undergoing their first transformation together, they terrorized a small village, killing off most of its livestock. They were horrified, but glad they at least did not injure or kill anyone. It was several weeks later that the young witch fell ill. Before long, they discovered she was pregnant, having conceived the night of the full moon."

Hermione gasped. She had never heard this story, never read it in any of her books. This poor couple.

"Yes, she was pregnant. With a litter. Apparently, there is only one other reported case in all of wizarding history of werewolves mating under the full moon. Beyond being concerned for her health, they were concerned for the welfare of their pups.

Shunned by their families, they turned to the only other home they had ever known, to Hogwarts. Dumbledore assured them, their cubs could find a home in the Forbidden Forest, and he would ensure they grew up strong, and safe.

"That's amazing," Hermione breathed. "So there really is an angry pack of wolves in the forest after all?" Harry bit his bottom lip awkwardly.

"Well, not exactly. They weren't vicious at all. In fact, they were quite the opposite. And they were wickedly smart. Like, human intelligence. Rumor has it that Hagrid befriended the pack while he was in school and tried to raise some cubs under his bed until one of the prefects caught him."

They both laughed at that. Only Hagrid would attempt to fill his dorm with creatures from the Forbidden Forest. Hermione refocused, returning her attention to Harry.

"That's all very interesting, Harry, but what does that have to do with Malfoy?"

"Well, that's where things get… messy."

"Messy?" she questioned.

"Messy." He confirmed, before hanging his head slightly. "And Bloody."


	31. Malfoy’s Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Harry opened a drawer of his desk, reached in, and withdrew a bottle and two glasses. He poured the amber liquid into one, tossing it back, before filling them both. He handed one to Hermione, and she took a small sip, cringing as the firewhiskey burned her throat. Harry fiddled with the glass, running his finger along its edge before returning his gaze to her.

 

"Like so many of us, Malfoy felt lost after the war. And once his trial was over, he kept finding his way back to Hogwarts. He would wander the rubble, sit by the lake, but eventually, he took to roaming the forest. He knew there were dangers there, but he didn't care.

 

One night he caught sight of a pack of wolves. They were beautiful, and they didn't seem to mind his presence. He would watch them as they played, frolicking through the trees, and he felt a sort of peace he had long forgotten.

 

He began seeking them out, each time he returned, until one day he found a small pup tangled in a briar bush. It was trapped. Alone and injured. So he tried to free it, but its mother had heard its cries, and when she found them, she attacked Malfoy.

 

Malfoy passed out from the pain and awoke the next day at St. Mungo's. Thankfully, Hagrid found him. He was there for almost a month. His wounds wouldn't heal, and he was in so much pain they kept him sedated. He never told them what happened.

 

It wasn't until he returned home that he started to notice the changes. It started with sounds. He would hear his mother's footsteps from the opposite end of the Manor. Then food began to taste different. It was when he began craving red meat that he connected the dots. It's not my place to tell you the rest."

 

Harry finished the remainder of his drink, setting the empty glass on the desk in front of him.

 

"Malfoy's a werewolf!?"

 

"No." And Hermione's eyes bore into his. "But he's not human either. Apparently, since the pups were conceived by werewolves, but born to a witch, their magical makeup is...unique. Not werewolves themselves, lycanthropy is still present in their blood, though diluted somewhat. And as they do not transform, it is always in a dormant state."

 

Hermione took a large drink from her glass, the gears in her mind turning with this new information.

 

"So, it's more like when a werewolf attacks someone in human form. They aren't infected fully, but they begin exhibiting lupine tendencies. Like Bill and Lavender?" She questioned.

 

"Yes, but at a much more extreme level. Its effects are more similar to those someone with lycanthropy suffers in the days nearing the full moon."

 

Hermione was reminded of Remus Lupin, prematurely aged, worn by the effect of his condition. She remembered the toll it took on him, in the days before, the irritation and exhaustion.

 

"All of his senses have been heightened, and he feels the pull and urges of his lupine traits in everything he does. Every moment of every day."

 

His restraint, Hermione thought. All those times she saw him tense, holding himself back as if fighting something within him. He truly was fighting.

 

"That's why Bill came here today. When he greeted Malfoy at Andromeda's, he could sense the wolf within him. And, and before he left, he said he could...smell him on you." Hermione coughed, the air in her lungs leaving her at Harry's words. "I won't pry, Mione, but, but be careful. Bill is worried about you. So am I. I've been working with Malfoy on something, a way to lessen the effect on his mind, but I don't think it's working. At least not yet."

 

"How? What are you doing?"

 

"We are trying to alter his memories, using a pensive."

 

"WHAT?!" Hermione sputtered. "But, that's not possible. You can only view memories within a pensive, you can not change them."

 

"It's complicated. And honestly, I don't understand half the magic involved, but Malfoy stores memories of events, small moments where the lupine tendencies emerged, and then we try to alter his reactions to those events. For example, a memory of a time he ate raw meat. We don't try and change the memory of the meat to a cooked steak, but instead, we attempt to alter his reaction to it. Instead of him remembering how delicious it was, he would have been revolted by its taste."

 

"How?" She asked again, and Harry began to rub at his temples.

 

"By merging his memory with one of someone else eating raw meat."

 

"Someone like you?"

 

"Exactly like me. He hopes that by altering these memories and implanting them back within his mind, these urges will subside. He had initially hoped he could alter the original memories within his mind, or to block them out, but without a trained Legilimens…"

 

Harry's voice trailed off, and the pair allowed the room to fill with silence.

 

* * *

 

 

The remainder of the day passed by slowly, in a blur of colors and sounds. Hermione could see and hear them all, but they were faint, mere echoes of what they should have been.

  


After Harry's retelling of Malfoy's tale, there hadn't been much else to say, both somber with the gravity of the situation. Hermione excused herself and began walking the corridors of the Ministry, with no real destination in mind.

  


She hadn't felt it right to return to her office just then, where her work would inevitably distract her, although only partly. This realization was big. It was massive, and Hermione believed it deserved her utmost focus and attention.

  


_“But he's not quite human either."_

  


The words rang in her head as she ignored those rushing past her. She was usually one of them; those in a hurry for this meeting or that one, lunch with a friend, appointment with the Wizingamot, but not today. Today she allowed herself to disappear into the crowd, to be ignored and faceless as they passed.

  


She should have been pleased, now that she unearthed his secret, but she felt somewhat empty, and she was having a hard time identifying the reason. She now knew Malfoy better than most, she understood him, and to a very limited extent, what he was going through. That's what she had wanted all along, wasn't it?

  


Eventually, she found herself on the second floor, in a secluded corner of the Department for Transportation. Their offices were never very busy, and she knew no one in this department, she wouldn't be bothered. She leaned against the smooth wall and looked out the enchanted window. She knew it was only magic, the view of the street and the people below, but it still relaxed her as she watched them. What might they be doing? Where might they be going?

  


Slowly, her mind wandered to Malfoy, dressed in muggle clothing, walking the streets of muggle London, buying a book by a muggle author for his formerly disowned aunt, who married a Muggle-born wizard. Malfoy, blood tainted with that of a werewolf's pup, playing with his cousin, a half-blood, a metamorphmagus, son of a werewolf.

  


Things really had changed. How had she not seen it?

  


She shook her head as she once again realized Malfoy had been right about her. She really had been so wrapped up in her work, in the larger scale of things, that she missed all the small changes in the Wizarding world happening around her.

  


Since the Malfoys re-entered her life, she had witnessed families reuniting, rivals laughing together, the proud humbling themselves before others, and numerous olive branches being offered. And this was only within a single pureblood household.

  


These things had not been planned, they were not a part of her agenda, but they were necessary for the change she sought in her world. And they were happening on their own, without her, and they were wonderful things. She was only sad she had not realized what was going on right under her nose, among her circle of friends and those she considered family. Why hadn't she seen it? Why hadn't they told her?

  


_“Times, Hermione, do change. And it would seem, at times such as these, we must change as well.”_

  


The Malfoys were changing. _Had changed_ already, but had she? Narcissa meant every word she shared over tea that first afternoon, and she believed her, so why had she not believed Malfoy? Why had she sought so fully to remove his mask, to break down his façade and expose him, to see him vulnerable and weak? What did that say about her?

  


She didn’t care that he was...whatever he was now. He was no lesser in her mind today than he had been yesterday. She was an advocate for all magical beings and creatures. He was still a wizard with rights. She understood wanting to keep certain matters of your personal life quiet, but surely there were resources and avenues available to him if he would only make this new condition known. He wouldn’t be burdened with the full weight of its discovery and treatment.

  


And the Ministry would respect his privacy, they would not invade it or plaster his story on the front page of the prophet. But, how could she even say such a thing? _She_ had invaded his privacy. Forced Harry’s hand into betraying him, all within the walls of the Ministry itself. Perhaps he had been right again.

  


He had done well to conceal his newly inherent lupine traits, at least around her. His anger was what always broke him though, and she supposed his aggression might be heightened as well. It would explain his sudden lack of control.

  


Thinking on this, she couldn't help but replay their moments together, the hard contrast between the fire and ice in his eyes, and the way it made her feel. His fire set her own ablaze, made her feel alive in strange ways. And the ice, she hated it.

  


Before today, she thought the fire had been there all along, buried far beneath his mask, but now, she knew it was a trait within his blood, his baser animal instincts he fought each day. The emptiness within her began to grow.

  


She thought those moments had been unique, something that occurred solely between the two of them, but that wasn't true. It couldn’t be. Primal lust and the urge to procreate probably cause his reaction to her...and others.

  


Images of Malfoy with Talbot and with Corningwood flooded her mind, as he touched them the same way he had touched her, and more. He wouldn't have stopped himself with them, and they would not have wanted him to. Her heart sank low within her chest. It was only Malfoy. Why did she care?

  


She thought once she discovered the reason for Malfoys behavior, she would be able to move past it, to forget the way he made her feel and return to a state of familiarity and normalcy. She thought she could work with him as colleagues, but she knew now that she could not.

  


How could she face him now, knowing his secret, without him seeing it on her face? The next time she saw him, he would know something was different. Know something had changed. She was no good at hiding her emotions.

  


Perhaps she could illude him until she was able to formulate some sort of plan. He was still angry at her, so there was a good chance he would avoid her as well. If she could only get him to tell her his story himself, she would no longer have to hide this newfound information. But how?

  


Behind her, she heard the rustling of papers being put away, and the echoing of footsteps through the hall as witches and wizards made their way out of the department. The workday was over, and they were returning home.

  


She wondered what Malfoy was doing now.

  


She stepped out of the corner, falling in line with them as they made their way to the lifts. There was no use in trying to catch up on her day’s work now. Her mind and her heart were not in it.

  


The moment she stepped into her apartment she heard the tapping of an owl at her window. It was Narcissa’s owl. She let the beautiful creature in, stroking its feathers gently before taking the letter. It was a timeline for the gala, noting the time she was to give her speech.

  


The gala! It was in two days. Panic washed over her at the thought of coming face to face with Malfoy again. He would read the concern and understanding written all over her face. He would get it out of her. She would crack under his scrutinizing gaze and he would know.

  


If she didn’t come up with a plan, and fast, she stood to lose more than his support, a lot more.


	32. The Event of the Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Hermione could hear Ginny as she frantically searched for her missing shoe. The witch had been a blur of clothing and red hair all morning. She seemed more excited about the gala than Hermione.

_"It's going to be the event of the year, Mione!"_

Hermione found it hard to match her friend's enthusiasm for the evening. Yes, she was excited to see what new support they would be able to rally for S.P.E.W., but she was incredibly anxious, not about her speech, or the prospect of having to stumble her way through a waltz or two. She was anxious about again coming face to face with Malfoy, and his mother.

She had grown to like Narcissa, quite a lot. She respected the witch and feared she would see the same disappointing look in her eyes as the last time she was at the Manor.

_"For such an intelligent witch, Hermione, you seem to have a hard time seeing what is right before you."_

What a fool she was. At last, the time came for her to floo to the Manor, alone. She needed to be there early so that she could greet the guests as they arrived, along with Narcissa and her son. Walking to the fireplace, she took a deep breath and summoned every ounce of her courage.

Smoothing her hands over her gown, she hoped it was appropriate. Ginny swooned over it the moment she found it at the shop, insisting to Hermione she purchase it immediately. Malfoy was supposed to help her pick out a suitable dress for the occasion. But that was before.

Grabbing a handful of floo powder from the jar on the mantle, she stepped in, announced her destination, and disappeared into the flames.

Much like her first visit here, Hermione had imagined many things she might see upon stepping into Malfoy Manor. And again, she was shocked as she emerged.

It was the same grand entrance hall she had grown accustomed to, but she very nearly did not recognize it. The lighting was dimmer, but small balls of light flickered through the air, illuminating the room with an other-worldly glow. Larger orbs floated high above, dancing, casting shadows across the walls and floor. The walls were covered in wandering ivy, and combined with the traveling light sources, she would have thought she arrived outdoors.

Across the room she spotted Narcissa, wearing the most beautiful dress Hermione had ever seen. It was a pale blue, with delicate designs embroidered in an iridescent silver thread. The embellishments began at the top of her ribcage, sparse at first, but the further down the fabric they travelled, they wove together more closely, catching the light at shining as the witch moved.

Narcissa was speaking with a small group of house elfs, and they nodded their heads fervently at whatever she said before disappearing with a pop. It was then that she turned and saw Hermione, and the younger witch noted that the blue of her dress matched her eyes perfectly.

Hermione approached her, adorning one of her practiced smiles. "It's breathtaking Mrs. Malfoy." After her rudeness, she wasn't sure she retained the right to address the woman by her first name. She embraced her timidly and held her breath when she spoke.

"Please, dear, what have I told you. It's Narcissa." Hermione exhaled in relief. "And this is nothing compared to the ballroom." Her eyes sparkled with pride as her lips turned at the corner. "But I've decided to keep that from you for now. I want you to see it for the first time full of guests! Speaking of which, I have a few things to go over with you before they arrive."

Hermione was exhausted already. Narcissa spent a full hour going over proper etiquette for greeting guests for such an event. It was expected she would know the names of everyone as they arrived and be able to inquire after their families or businesses. Hermione found Malfoy's list quite helpful in this, but she was unable to recognize a majority of the guests on her own. Narcissa was infinitely patient with her, whispering names and information into her ear each time she saw the look of fear flash across Hermione's face.

The arches of her feet were already beginning to hurt from standing in place for so long. And hour and a half after the first guest arrived, and she was still standing next to the Malfoy matriarch by the blasted fireplace. Didn't these people know it was impolite to arrive so late?

She hadn't seen Malfoy yet, and she was surprised he was not expected to stand up next to Narcissa, as head of the house. But then again, he was probably avoiding her, and that was a good thing. She was slightly taken aback by the onslaught of compliments and doting of attention many of the guests bestowed upon her as they arrived, she was sure her face was flushed.

Another whoosh of the fireplace, and Blaise Zabini stepped through, followed by a petite brunette witch. He took her arm gently, and they made their way across the room. Narcissa greeted them warmly, inquiring after Blaise's mother. Hermione missed the name of the young witch on his arm as blood pulsed through her ears. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since he arrived, and he wasn't looking at her face. She felt very uncomfortable as he took her hand, kissing it a little too enthusiastically, and inquired after her health.

His date did not miss his behavior, and as they turned to make their way to the entrance of the ballroom, she knocked her shoulder into Hermione, setting her off balance. She began to wobble on her heels, her feet too tired to be of much help in stabilizing her.

Without warning, her shoes clicked back against the stone floors firmly, and she felt her feet sink softly into their soles. Her mouth opened, and her eyes widened, as she sensed, more than felt the tall figure behind her.

"Tisk, tisk, tisk. Still haven't discovered that charm now, have you, Granger?" His voice was calm, smooth, but there was a bite to his words. She wanted to turn around, to see his face in hopes of discovering which Malfoy persona he wore tonight, but she could not. She wasn't ready. He would see. So instead, she spoke softly, still facing the fireplace.

" _Someone_ failed to inform me of the charm as promised." He laughed humorlessly.

"Well, _someone_ failed to remember her manors during that meeting, if I recall." Just then, Narcissa noticed her son's arrival and interrupted their tit for tat.

"Draco, darling! You look so dashing. Is it time already?" Time? Time for what, Hermione thought. She quickly ran through the last letter from Narcissa, detailing tonight's schedule. Oh, right, Malfoy was to escort his mother, officially signaling the beginning of the event. Then she was to give her speech.

Malfoy took his mother's arm as Tootsie appeared at Hermione's side. "Tootsie is to take misses to the other entrance when ready." Hermione thanked the small elf, but a soft hand stopped her from following. She turned to see Narcissa, smiling broadly at her.

"Wait Hermione. Just a moment." Hermione nodded, and Narcissa returned to her son's side. Mother and son approached the large archway which led to the ballroom. It had been enchanted to hide the room from view as well as block out all sound. One could see or hear nothing until they stepped through.

Narcissa and Malfoy paused in front of the arch, and Narcissa cast one more glance at Hermione over her shoulder, before whispering something. As soon as she finished, the enchantment was lifted, light and music filled the air, and the beauty of the room took Hermione's breath away.

The ballroom had been transformed into a magical garden, full of plant life and exotic flowers. The aroma of them filled her nostrils, causing her to close her eyes for a moment as she breathed. This room too was lit by floating orbs, swirling overhead those couples dancing in the center of the room.

Everything seemed enchanted to move, as if blowing in a gentle breeze, and sparkling paper dragonflies fluttered about the room. Hermione wanted nothing more than to follow the pair in, to take it all in, but there was a tug at her dress, as Tootsie urged her to follow to the side entrance. She obliged, taking in the room once more before turning, mentally preparing herself for her speech.

Hermione felt woefully out of place at her own gala. Her speech had gone well, and many wizards had approached her with promises of setting up meetings in the near future, but she still felt herself ill prepared to _schmooze_. That was not a strength of hers. Malfoy was supposed to help her. He had promised to teach her. But again, that was _before._

Instead, she found herself seated at a small table with Neville, looking across the dance floor to the two Malfoys as they did her job for her. Malfoy had been right, Narcissa was amazing to watch. Even though Hermione could hear nothing of what was being said, she could see the woman successfully parting these wizards from their galleons.

She turned her attention back to Neville, hoping to distract herself for a bit, only to find he was deeply enthralled in examining a particularly menacing looking flower behind them. He was lost to her now.

Her eyes travelled to those dancing, the orbs above them seeming to sway in time along with them now, and Hermione found the rhythm soothing. She had no desire to dance right now, but she enjoyed watching them. She searched the group for familiar faces and smiled as she saw Ginny and Harry dancing closely, whispering sweetly to each other.

As the music changed, several couples joined, among them she saw Malfoy, as he wrapped his arms around a familiar tall blonde. Talbot. She couldn't help picturing the two of them together again, this time in the darkness of his bedroom here at the Manor. Her heart sank as she imagined him pressed against her, nipping at her neck, growling deeply as he ripped her dress from her shoulders.

She couldn't breathe, and tears threatened her eyes. She stood, walking as quickly as possible to the archway without drawing attention. But as she left, she was oblivious to the three sets of eyes that had followed her, one brown, one blue, and one grey.

She didn't know where she was going. She had hoped to find a door leading outside so she could get some fresh air, but she only succeeded in getting herself lost. The tears were falling freely now, and she decided to settle for any room she could close herself up in until she regained her senses.

She opened the next door she saw, stepping in and closing the door firmly behind her. She pressed her back against it, and a sob escaped her throat.

"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!" She shouted at herself and slammed her palm against the wooden door behind her. Her emotions were getting the better of her, and it was becoming more and more apparent as to why. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid girl!" This time she banged her head against the wood. "Why him? Why now?!" She shook her head, willing the tears to stop. This was ridiculous. She was acting like a silly school girl with a crush. But Merlin, that's basically what she was.

As she dried her tears, she pushed off of the door and began to move about the room in hopes of finding something to take her mind off of Malfoy and his beautiful dance partner. She appeared to be in a study of some kind, and a chill ran up her spine at the memory of the last time she was in such a room.

A large desk was to her left, books and parchments stacked high on it's surface. The window to her right was open, and she felt a cold breeze sweep across the room. She shivered and rubbed her shoulders. Removing her wand from it's holder, she lit a fire in the stone fireplace behind the desk, walking closer to warm herself. She wouldn't stay long, she thought to herself, just a few more moments.

She ignored the urge to take a seat behind the desk and instead sat in one of the smaller chairs by the mantle. That's when she caught sight of something in the corner, something just barely now illuminated by the crackling fire. No, it couldn't be. How had she ended up in this room, of all places. Slowly, she stood, and made her way over only to confirm her suspicion.

There, on a small table sat a shallow stone basin, runes and other symbols carved along it's middle, beautiful stones lining the top edge. Inside she watched as the silvery substance within swirled, slowly, and she gasped as she saw small shimmers swimming within. Malfoy's memories. Malfoy's pensive.

She walked back over to the desk and picked up the first book she saw. _Who Am I? By Gilderoy Lockhart._ She picked up another. _Muggles who Notice By Blenheim Stalk._ Another, then another, and another. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ _by Newt Scamander. Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling. Wandering with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart._

She walked back to the pensive. This was where Malfoy and Harry had been working. This was _his_ study. She had to get out of here. Panic was setting in, her pulse raced, and her breath quickened. The books, she needed to put them back. Where had she picked them all up from? They needed to be put back in the exact same spot. She rushed back to the desk again, beginning to feel dizzy and her sudden and erratic movements, but before she laid a single book back in it's place, she heard someone clear their throat, and her eyes shot up to the doorway.

Blaise Zabini was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes looking her up and down. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

"Blaise!" Hermione exclaimed, and she exhaled deeply. She had thought it was Malfoy at first. "You scared me." Her pulse slowing slightly, she set the pile of books on the desk before meeting his gaze.

" _Mi Lionne,_ I didn't mean to frighten you. I was simply curious as to what caused this evening's host to leave her own party in such a rush."

"I'm not your host, Blaise, the Malfoys are." His unwavering gaze was making her nervous again. "Where's your date?"

"Don't know. Don't care." Her pulse sped up again. She felt uncomfortable in this wizard's presence. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her, but she couldn't leave. He was blocking the doorway. "What brings you to Draco's study, _Hermione?_ In search of a good read?" She shook her head and he looked past her to the corner. "Or perhaps a good show?"

She gasped. "You know?!"

" _You_ know?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and she lost it.

"Please Blaise! Please, don't tell him!" She walked around the desk and toward the dark wizard but stopped herself a few feet in front of him. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I didn't even mean to find out." That was a lie. "Well, not _really._ I knew there was something different about him, but I had no idea, not that it matters, it's not important, that is, I mean, I don't care either way, but – "She was rambling, and Blaise looked amused.

"If he finds out I know – he's already upset with me about –"

"I know very well what he's upset with you about, _Hermione._ I know better than you even. Do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into, _mi lionne?"_ And Blaise took a step closer to her.

"Stop calling me that!" she burst out and he grabbed her wrist.

"I will call you whatever I wish." His voice was deep and dangerous now. "The way I see it, it is _you_ who is asking _me_ for a favor. That means I set the rules." He closed the remaining gap between them, and she fought to jerk her arm away from his grasp.

"How important is it that I keep this from Draco? How far are you willing to go to convince me to keep your secret." Hermione felt bile rise in her throat. Was he propositioning her? He couldn't be serious, but he _looked_ serious. His grip on her wrist _felt_ serious. But he was a Slytherin. This could all be a test, or a sick game.

With all the strength she could muster, she finally ripped her wrist from his hand and then shoved him in the chest as hard as she could with both hands. He faltered only slightly, but his face seemed to soften. "Not in a million years, Zabini! You're disgusting! Only a pitiful excuse for a wizard would attempt to intimidate a woman into his bed. I guess it's true that money can't buy manners."

Blaise erupted with laughter, and he bent at the waist, hands resting on his legs as he attempted to catch his breath.

"What in Merlin's name is so blasted funny?" she demanded.

"You….are…" he spoke between gasps. "Salazar save me, you are Gryffindor through and through, aren't you?"

Hermione's face reddened as she clenched her fists at her side. Blaise still fought to contain his laughter, but straightened, before turning to the doorway. "You're secret's safe with me, Granger. Just make sure you keep Draco's that way as well." And then he was gone, his laughter trailing away through the hallway as he went.

Hermione's breath suddenly came in short gasps, as her adrenaline rush left her. She was sure he would attack her, how, she wasn't sure, but truly thought she was going to have to fight her way out of that room. She began sobbing, unable to control the surge of emotion within her, so this time, she allowed herself to cry with abandon.


	33. Only You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was original published out of order, so if it looks familiar, please go back and re-read the correct chapter 31. My apologies. 
> 
> I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

It was sheer luck Hermione found her way through the maze of corridors and back to the ballroom's archway. She took another calming breath, hoping the red of her eyes was not noticeable. She could do this. She was stronger than this. She had survived a war. She most certainly could survive a few Slytherins, but as she stepped through the arch, she felt the sudden warmth of someone's hand on her arm.

"I believe you are long overdue for a dance, Granger." Without waiting for a reply, Malfoy led her through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

She kept silent, her eyes down and off his face, but as they took their place in the sea of couples, his hand moved to her waist, and he pulled her in close. Her eyes shot up to meet his, cold and grey, and without a word, he began to move, guiding them effortlessly.

Hermione's face flushed with embarrassment. Her footing was sloppy, missing steps here and there as they went, but Malfoy made no comment on her lack of skill, simply continued dancing, all the while staring into her brown eyes….searching.

She knew the moment he found something. His eyes flashed, as if a spark ignited beneath the ice, and her mouth parted slightly. His jaw tightened as he began to glare over her shoulder.

As they turned in time with the music, Hermione looked in the direction of Malfoy's stare to find Ginny, Harry, Bill, Ron, and Lavender talking animatedly at a nearby table.

Fear washed over her. Did he really know? Or was he merely suspicious? Her friends hadn't noticed them dancing, and as other couples danced around them, she soon lost sight of them.

"Where were you?" His voice was clipped; his attention back fully on her.

"What do you mean?" She knew exactly what he meant, but she needed to be sure she did not share more than necessary. The man was wound so tight, he could snap at any moment, and here, in the middle of the gala, was _not_ the place for that.

"Don't play dumb with me. You disappeared for nearly an hour. And I couldn't help but notice Blaise's absence as well. Where did you go? Off playing footsie somewhere in my home?"

Hermione gasped at his accusation. "NO!" she spoke a little too loudly, and a few heads of nearby couples turn their direction. "No," she spoke again, more softly. "Absolutely not. I just, I needed some fresh air. But I got lost."

Her head turned down slightly. It wasn't a lie, she just wasn't telling the whole truth. Looking up at him through her lashes as they danced, she noticed his jaw was no longer clenched, though his face was still severe. That was an improvement at least.

Lifting her head again, she met his gaze without hesitation, squaring her shoulders as her confidence grew. She wouldn't let him intimidate her any longer. "I'm surprised you noticed my absence at all."

"I've known exactly where you were this entire evening."

"Is that so?" she raised her brow questioningly.

"Of course. That's why I know you were never outside. But you _were_ in my study. And Blaise _was_ there." Her confidence vanished.

"I told you, I got lost – "

"On your way to get some fresh air. Yes, you did mention that." He stopped mid step, holding her firmly in his arms. "Come, I'll show you out to the gardens."

"But I-I-"

"What sort of host would I be if I allowed you to get overheated." His voice was low and demanding. "I really do _insist."_

Malfoy took her hand, all but dragging her across the ballroom and through the archway. Down the hall and a few turns later, they came to a set of glass doors. With a flick of his wand they opened, and pulled her through. His grip on her hand was firm, but gentle. It didn't hurt, but she knew she could not pull away either.

The night air swirled around them as they walked the path to the gardens, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh and she shivered. Another flick of his wand. A warming charm, and she sighed with relief.

He marched them through the gardens, until they came to a small courtyard, surrounded by hedges and topiaries. He guided her to a small bench before standing in front of her, placing his hands in his pockets.

"You're going to tell me what's going on." She stared. "All those owls apologizing, begging for forgiveness for your actions."

Well, _begging_ was a bit of an exaggeration, she thought.

"And then they stopped. Just, stopped. That's very unlike you, Granger. You don't give up." _Shite._ "Something happened. Something changed and you are going to tell me what that was." He leaned down to her, a single hand moving from his pocket to cup her chin, angling it toward him.

"You have a different look in your eyes tonight, Granger. Your body language is different too. And your sorrow. I can practically… _smell_ it on you." He inhaled slowly, never breaking eye contact with her, and she gasped. Could he really? Were his lupine traits _that_ strong.

As her eyes widened, he dropped her chin, stepping away from her and she watched as his eyes darkened. Oh no! It was a trick. It was a test to see how she would react, to see if she knew. And she failed!

"Who told you?" He looked away from her, hands again in his pockets, but even with only the dim lighting of the moon, she could see his muscles tensing throughout his arms and shoulders. He was furious, just as she anticipated he would be.

Perhaps this should frighten or intimidate her, but instead, she felt her courage rise. The magic of his charm still warmed her skin, somehow making her feel invincible in the cold night air. She stood, head held high, chin jutting forward, and marched in front of him.

"That's enough of that Malfoy. I'm fed up. I'm sick of it!" Taken aback, he quirked an eyebrow but allowed her to continue.

"In the past months, there have been very few moments I did not find your presence completely infuriating! Quite frankly, I believe you are the most stubborn," she reached her finger out, poking him firmly in his chest, "arrogant," poke, "proud," another poke, "man I have ever met in my life!"

She left her finger pressed into Malfoy's sternum and continued her rant. "You're impossible! But despite all of your many, _many,_ shortcomings you have managed to show myself _and_ my friends that you are not evil, only a prat. You asked if I counted you among my friends? Well guess what buddy, you made the cut! And I'm not the only one. You're in! The lions have taken in the snakes. So you know what that means?!" She paused, waiting for a reply. Malfoy smirked down at her, but shook his head slowly.

"It means we HELP each other, even if one of us is too bloody stubborn to ask for it. And yes, sometimes that means we stick our noses where we weren't invited, but we do it because we care! Merlin's beard! YOU ASKED HARRY BLOODY POTTER TO HELP YOU WITH RESEARCH!? You might as well have asked Ron!"

Malfoy's face, though still guarded, had softened, and his body was no longer stiff with anger. At her less than complimentary words regarding the other two-thirds of the golden trio, Malfoy snorted a laugh, causing Hermione's anger to dissipate a little.

She sighed. "You should have come to me, Malfoy. You should have told me."

"So I could become your next pet project? I don't think so. I'm not one of your charity cases."

"You just don't get it, do you?! It's not charity amongst friends!"

"Friends?" Malfoy stepped closer, forcing her to remove the finger still pressing against him. His scent, mixed with the aroma of the nearby flowers overtook her senses. "Is that what we are?" His voice was smooth and seemed to offer some sort of promise to her ears.

She ignored his question. Whatever else happened between them wasn't what was important right now. "You should have come to me. I could have saved you a lot of time."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Really." She said matter-of-factly. "You're going about this all wrong."

"Enlighten me."

"You can't fight this. You may possess more and stronger lupine traits than any non-werewolf in known wizarding history, but other than that, you're no different than Bill or Lavender." His head cocked slightly to the side as he considered her words.

"You've been looking in all the wrong places. Researching werewolves and memory charms. You've been searching for someone who was infected just like yourself but face it, you are probably the first. So, of course, there's been no studies, no research ever done! But there _have_ been _plenty_ of studies on witches and wizards attacked by a werewolf in human form! And when you consider it logically, you suffer their same affliction." Malfoys eyes widened in realization.

"And every. Single. Bloody. Study done or person affected will tell you the same thing. You don't fight it. You embrace it." There was a pregnant pause as she slowed her breathing. When Malfoy spoke, his voice was softer than she had ever heard it.

"You didn't answer my question. Are. We. Friends?"

She sighed woefully. "We are friends, Malfoy. And colleagues, and –"

"And you want more," he spoke. It wasn't a question. "I can sense it, smell it." He inhaled, closing his eyes as he breathed her in.

Hermione's eyes widened as she watched him. It was one of the most sensual sights she had ever witnessed. His head was tilted upward slightly, and she watched as the moonlight danced across his pale skin. In this light, he almost glowed, his flesh an eerie shade resembling pearlescent stone. He was breathtaking.

He exhaled with a growl, moving forward and pulled her the remaining distance to him until they were chest to chest. Hips to hips.

"Embrace it? You have no idea what this scent does to me." He leaned his head down, burying his nose in the mess of curls at her neck and inhaled again. Hermione could feel his entire body shiver as he breathed her in.

She wanted nothing more than to weave her fingers into his silky blonde hair. But there was still one small part of her that would not allow herself to give in to her body's desires.

What about Talbot? What about Corningwood? What about all the other witches who undoubtedly threw themselves at his feet as he passed? Was it always like this for him, or was it just her? She had to know. But he was so very close.

"What does it do to you?" Wait. That wasn't the right question. He groaned, rocking his hips against her. Heat pooled in her abdomen at the feel of him. Rock hard.

"Thissss," he hissed. "And so, so much more." He rocked his hips again, causing her to gasp and grab hold of his chest. It would be so easy. So easy to just give in. But she couldn't. Wouldn't.

"Is it always like this?"

He brushed her curls aside and began planting lazy kisses on her neck, slowly traveling higher. "With you, always."

Her skin tingled beneath his lips, and her heart soared at his words. With her. But she had to be sure. "With me?"

"Yessss." The word ghosted across her skin.

"And, _only_ with me?" Her eyes fluttered closed as he nipped at her jaw.

"You." He kissed her jaw. "Always you." Kissed the corner of her mouth. "And only you."

Her eyes shot open and she was immediately lost in his warm coal-colored eyes. His lips had stopped, hovering a hairs width away from her own. She could feel his breath, ragged and shallow, and marveled at how it seemed to match her own.

He didn't move, again searching for something. His hand cupped her face, his thumb rubbing soft patterns against her jaw. When it crossed the bit of skin he nipped moments ago, Hermione's heart jumped, and her magic surged forward, encircling them both.

He quickly closed the distance between them and her resolve shattered.


	34. Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination
> 
> Get ready for smut.

Her magic swirled around them, electric currents dancing across her skin. She could feel something shift deep within her, as if clicking into place, making her feel whole for the first time.

His fingers slid up her neck and into her curls, and that's when she realized. Draco Malfoy was kissing her, hungrily, and she was doing nothing. She had wanted this, for longer than she was willing to admit.

She launched herself forward, a bit too eager, but she didn't care. She yearned for more, burning from the inside out. At her sudden attack, Malfoy stumbled back, but quickly regained his footing and his grasp on her. As she scrambled to touch him, to feel the hardened plains of his body as he placed open-mouth kisses against her lips, she could hear a deep chuckle. But again, she didn't care.

His tongue flicked out tasting her, and her lips parted on instinct, a groan pouring from her throat, and he lost all control. He attacked her mouth, and soon they were both gasping for air. The hand in her hair twisted, and she winced as the pressure bordered on both pain and pleasure. He was devouring her, and he tasted divine.

She poured all her frustrations into their kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance, causing her fingers to curl into the fabric of his pristine robes. She shifted her stance, pushing one leg between his own and thrust her hips forward. He gasped at the contact of her bold move, and thrust back against her, emitting a guttural growl that vibrated on her tongue.

Their breath was coming in gasps between kisses now, her head feeling light and dizzy. Slowly, his tongue retreated from the warmth of her mouth, his kisses became less demanding, and then he withdrew entirely. She whimpered in protest at the lack of contact, but the disappointment was short-lived. He heaved in a breath, and then attacked her again.

Hermione immediately opened her mouth to him, allowing him full access, and shivered as the taste of him overtook her senses again. One of his hands trailed up and down her back lightly, burning across her skin as he moved.

The faint sound of a pop registered in her mind, but she could not bring herself to acknowledge it, not when his tongue was doing such marvelous things. But, when she heard a small squeak, the couple parted, turning to see Tootsie standing meekly to the side wringing her hands. Hermione's shoulders sagged, but Malfoy straightened instantly and faced the small elf.

"Yes?" he grit out through clenched teeth.

"Sorry to disturb Master, but Mistress is looking for you. Mistress sent Tootsie to find you. People is leaving now."

"Thank you, Tootsie. Tell my mother we will return shortly." With a quick nod of her head and a pop, the small elf was gone, leaving the pair again alone in the silence of the night.

Hermione's cheeks flushed as she met his gaze, her hand coming to rest against her lips. They were swollen and hot, and she smiled softly as she noticed Malfoy's high cheekbones were stained a pale pink. She wasn't sure what to say, so she simply continued to look into his eyes, watching as the heat swirled within them.

He was staring back at her, but his eyes wandered across her face and hair, and she saw a smirk begging at the corner of his mouth. He was taking in the sight of her and seemed pleased with what he saw. She snorted a small laugh. How typical she thought, shaking her head at him playfully.

"We should go," he spoke, "before Mother comes looking for us herself. She won't be pleased if we make her leave her guests."

Hermione straightened, eyes widening at the thought of upsetting the Malfoy matriarch for a second time. "Of course." And she turned to make her way back to the house. As she stepped away from Malfoy and began walking along the stone path, she felt suddenly cold, and wondered if his warming charm had worn off. But then, she felt a comforting heat envelop her, beginning at the small of her back.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Malfoy at her side, hand low on her back, guiding her gently. She examined him as they walked. He held his head high with all the practiced poise of any Pureblood heir, but she could tell from his profile that his face was devoid the Malfoy mask.

And although she could not be sure, she thought she saw his eyes dart over to her, just for a moment, just once or twice.

She was no longer cold.

Narcissa had been in a tizzy by the time they approached the archway and berated them for having not been there to thank their guests as the first took their leave. Once she felt Hermione and her son appeared appropriately chastised, the look of outrage on her face quickly dissipated and was replaced with something else, something Hermione couldn't quite place, but if she had to describe, she would have put it somewhere between prideful and mischievous.

The remainder of the evening was woefully formal, much like its beginning, as the three offered their gratitude to the vacating guests.

Hermione's back and neck were stiff, not used to maintaining such rigid posture for such a long period of time. She glanced over to Malfoy and his mother, wondering how on earth they could stand it.

The Malfoys paid her no mind, all the while focusing their attentions on the witches and wizards in front of them. Her heart panged at the loss of the blonde wizard's attentions, but she knew that was silly and petty. So, she quickly pushed the feeling away.

Finally, it was time for her to take her own leave. It seemed her friends had been among the first to leave during her absence, and she knew to expect at least one fiery redhead's inquiry as to where she had disappeared to. She thanked Narcissa repeatedly for such a wonderful event.

Narcissa smiled demurely at her praise, and Hermione noted that she bore the same formality toward her as she had upon her last visit here for tea. Curious. But, perhaps it was part of pureblood etiquette when throwing such an event, and Hermione committed she would pick up some texts to study on the matter.

Malfoy stood stoically at his mother's side, hands folded behind him, not speaking a word until she stepped back and away from Hermione. He took a graceful step toward her and bent at the waist; one hand remained at his back while the other reached out to grab her own. He lifted her knuckles to his lips and planted a chased kiss.

Her heart sunk at the coldness of his formality. Perhaps it was his upbringing, like his mothers, but after snogging her senseless in his gardens, the stark contrast left her feeling broken and empty inside.

How could he so easily ignore what had happened between them? She thought back to that night at Andromeda's. It had been the same then, but this, this had felt much more intimate. Much more _real._

"A pleasure, as always." He released her hand but didn't break eye contact. "Thank you for the dance." She couldn't find any words, so she nodded her head. "Goodnight." His voice was soft.

"Goodnight, Malfoy. Thank you for a beautiful evening." She saw his eyes flash and she sucked in a breath. Perhaps he wasn't so cold after all. She smiled widely at him, before stepping into the fireplace and returning home.

The moment she walked into her living room, Hermione kicked off her shoes, sighing in relief as her feet sunk into the plush carpet. She collapsed into the sofa, her hand traveling back to her lips as she remembered the feel of his kiss.

He was an excellent kisser, gentle yet firm at the same time. Biting her bottom lip at the memory, she welcomed the flood of arousal that grew in her abdomen.

She called out to Ginny but was glad when she heard no reply. Reaching for her wand, she closed the fireplace to incoming floo calls, before tossing it to the side.

Her right hand rested on her stomach before traveling up to grasp her breast, all the while imagining it was Malfoys hand on her. She moved higher, across her collarbone and tangled her fingers into the hair at the base of her neck, gripping it tight as he had done.

Her other hand traveled to her center, and she began rubbing firm circles across her clit through the fabric of her gown. Her eyes fluttered closed as she continued touching herself. Inhaling slowly, she remembered the feel of his hardness against her.

She rarely pleasured herself, and her movements, though somewhat effective, were clumsy. It was a poor substitute, but it would have to do.

She pulled at the fabric, bringing its edge up over her knees. How would Malfoy have done this? Would he raise her dress slowly, trailing his fingers across her flesh as he went? Or would he be more aggressive, ripping it up and over her head in one sudden movement, exposing her to him? She moaned but was suddenly brought out of her trance by a loud knock at her door.

She dropped the hem of her gown, sat up and looked toward the hallway. Another knock. Who could be here at such a late hour. It was nearly midnight. Perhaps it was Ginny? She had closed the floo. But why would she come home at all tonight rather than staying at Harry's?

Grabbing her wand, she made her way to the door and opened it and saw Malfoy, eyes dark, with a predatory look on his face. Without a word, he strode forward, grabbing her by the hip. His other hand reached behind him, slamming the door closed before grabbing a fistful of her hair.

He turned her slightly, then slammed her against the nearby wall. She gasped in shock, but then he was on her, against her, his hands roaming her body eagerly before capturing her lips in a scorching kiss.

She could feel him everywhere at once. Her mouth, her neck, her hips, her breasts. He moved away slightly, leaving only enough room between them to spin her around, pressing her front flush against the cool wall. She turned her head to the side, allowing her cheek to rest against its surface, and he began rocking against her, latching his lips onto her neck from behind.

She let out a breathy sigh, before her mind began to race. "What are you doing?" She asked, and then gasped again as he sunk his teeth into her flesh.

"Embracing my instincts," he growled, and then moved a hand to her core. He massaged her, and she relished the feel of his fingers as they traced her entrance through the thin fabric. The pressure of his fingers against her was perfect, firm and hot, much more satisfying than her own had felt just minutes ago.

He began to frantically grab at the fabric, lifting it quickly before returning his hand to heat. He moaned against the shell of her ear as he rubbed her through her knickers, and she knew in an instant he could feel her arousal.

"So wet for me already." His words were hot against her neck. "What were you doing before I arrived? Tell me."

She sucked in a breath. "I was sitting on the sofa."

"Were you thinking of me?"

She sighed. "Yes"

"Touching yourself?"

Another sigh. "Yess."

His finger hooked the edge of her knickers, moving it to the side. He trailed a single digit over her wetness, gathering it, before dipping inside her. A loud moan escaped her lips, and he attacked her neck again, as he slowly pumped his finger inside her.

"So tight," he moaned against her neck. "So wet. So responsive. Tell me, when you were touching yourself, were you pretending it was me? Imagining my fingers touching you," he paused, then curled his finger deep inside her, pressing hard against her g-spot, "here," he hissed.

"Yes!" She screamed. Her eyes closed tightly as his fingers sped up, each time placing more and more pressure against that spot inside her. "Oh, gods yes!"

Her heart raced, and she knew if he continued, she would break apart. But before she could reach that state of bliss, he withdrew from her, spinning her around to face him.

She looked up, breathing heavily, and her eyes widened as he brought his hand to his face. He inhaled her scent from his finger, and his black eyes flashed dangerously. He took his finger inside his mouth, sucking it clean, and his eyes fluttered close.

It was as if he was savoring the most delicious treat. She gaped at his action. Never once had Ron been so bold as to _taste_ her. His eyes shot open once more.

"Delicious," he purred. "Do you know how good you taste?" Eyes still wide, she slowly shook her head no.

Then he was kissing her again, delving deep within the warm cavern of her mouth, and she could taste herself on his tongue. An involuntary moan escaped into his mouth, and suddenly his hands were everywhere again.

He gripped her bottom and then lifted her. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist just before he slammed her back against the wall again. This time she was at eye level with him, and she pulled away and chanced a glance.

His darkened eyes shown with a sort of fire behind them. They were wild, but Hermione couldn't help but think that for the first time, Malfoy looked...free.

She began kissing him, softly, sweetly. Hips pinned under his own, she could feel his length against her again, pulsing, twitching, yearning to be freed from the confines of his trousers. She tensed and sucked in a shuttering breath.

Would this be the night? Would they really do _that_ so soon? As if reading her mind, Malfoy began to speak between kisses. "Want you. Need you." She sighed, relaxing again. "Nowwww." He growled and punctuated his words with the sharp thrust of his hips.

He removed her from the wall and began walking further into her flat. Had they really not made it past the entranceway? He continued to kiss her hotly as he walked, but his eyes were wide, pushing open doors as they passed, until finally finding her bedroom.

A few long strides and he was at the foot of her bed, and her stomach tightened. They were in her bedroom. The bedroom she once shared with Ron. Somehow, despite her feelings, it felt like a betrayal.

She tried to push those feelings aside, tried to again focus on the fire this wizard ignited within her, but she only managed to summon more embarrassing thoughts.

She hadn't done this often. She and Ron never worked similar schedules, which made finding time together challenging. They slept in the same bed, of course, but she could count on both hands the number of times they had been _intimate_.

Surely Malfoy would notice her inexperience. Would he mind? Would he laugh at her? Call her a prude and leave? No. Not him. Maybe the old Malfoy, but not this man who now held her in his arms.

Malfoy tossed her effortlessly onto the mattress with a bounce, causing her to giggle. For a second, her mind stopped it's worrying.

She looked up at the stunning wizard hovering above her. A beautiful silhouette in the darkness of her room, light shining from the open door behind him. He was, "perfect," she sighed without meaning to.

His hands shot to his trousers and she could hear the clink of the metal belt as he undid it. Her anxiety returned. Fear coursed through her veins and she shot up on her bed, leaning forward on her knees, and reached her hand out to stop him.

At the feel of her small hand on his, he looked up questioningly, head cocked slightly to the side. "I-I," She stammered. "It's just, I've not-" she couldn't find the words.

His hand moved and wrapped around hers, the other moving to stroke her face gently. When he spoke, his voice was calm and smooth. "Don't tell me you're still a virgin, Granger."

Her face flushed hot, and she hoped he couldn't see it in the darkness. "No," she laughed humorlessly, but she felt him exhale slowly. "It's just...been a long time. And. And it was only a few times anyway."

She was embarrassed, and she tried to lower her chin, to avert her gaze so she didn't have to look at the disappointment in his eyes. But he held her face still, eyes fixed on her own.

"What a fool." She felt her eyes begin to well up with tears at his words. He didn't want her, not now, but he continued. "He didn't deserve you."

"W-what? Who?" Malfoy dropped down to his knees before her, moving her to sit on the edge of the bed, and pulled her feet to him. With a sigh, he began massaging one foot comfortingly as he spoke.

"Weasley. I always knew he was a fool. How could he lay next to such a beautiful witch every night and resist the urge to touch you?" He moved his hands under the hem of her gown, lightly gripping her ankles, massaging them.

"To feel you." His hands traveled higher, across her shins and calves, bunching the fabric over his forearms as he went.

"To make you shiver with want and need." Moving higher, he pushed the fabric over her knees, exposing her legs to his view. He dipped his head down, planting light kisses on the inside of her thighs. At his sensual words and the gentleness of his touch, her legs fell open, and she leaned back, supporting her weight on her elbows.

His kisses trailed higher as he lifted the fabric once more, exposing her knickers, and he kissed their edge.

"To _taste_ you each and every night." His tongue darted out and he licked her slit firmly over the fabric. She clenched her eyes shut and inhaled deeply. She could smell the tang of her own arousal, feel the heat of her core, ignited by his words and by his touch.

"We won't do anything tonight you don't want." His voice echoed in her ears. A sweet promise for tonight and for nights to come. But when his fingers hooked into the top of her knickers, and he began pulling them down slowly, her eyes shot back open, wide and fearful. She went to speak, but he silenced her with a shush.

He continued removing the article at a snail's pace, never taking his eyes from her own. As she slipped her feet out, he crumpled them, placing them in his pocket. His lips met her flesh again, starting at the inside of her knees, then moving up. Inch by inch. Kiss by kiss. All the while looking into her eyes.

As he approached her heat, she whimpered. Would he kiss her _there!?_ That was something else Ron had never done. He seemed to sense her shock, and paused, hovering his mouth over her core.

His breath was cool against her, causing her to shiver. As he closed his eyes, he breathed her in, a growl resonating in his chest before his eyes shot open again, wide.

"Has no one ever kissed you here? Ever tasted the sweetness of your dripping wet cunt?" She gasped.

"N-no. Never." And that was all it took.

Malfoy dove between her thighs, lapping at her folds before catching her clit between his lips and sucking hard. Hermione screamed out. Her arms gave out beneath her and she fell on her back, grasping at the sheets around her as Malfoy began pressing his tongue against her swollen nub with incredible speed.

Continuing his attention to that sweet bundle of nerves, a single finger moved between her folds, circling her entrance once, twice, three times before plunging into her wetness. Hermione's vision was blurring, her body wrecked with pleasure at the man moving between her legs.

Withdrawing the digit fully, he reentered her again slowly, two fingers this time, but she was so tight he took his time, easing into her a knuckle at a time. His tongue began flicking her; up and down, up and down. Side to side, side to side, causing Hermione to hold her breath.

He began to scissor his fingers inside her, stretching her, but not roughly. Once she had adjusted, he began pumping his fingers inside her, slowly at first, but then faster and faster, finally matching the pace of his tongue on her clit.

She was moaning, squirming beneath him as she felt the pressure within her grow, pushing her closer and closer to the presipus. She clenched her muscles around his fingers, and a growl vibrated against her clit. He was savagely pumping her now, and she began babbling incoherently as he spoke against her.

"Tell me, Granger. How does it feel? My fingers inside your hot cunt? Tell me!" His voice was husky. His words demanding. She tried to speak, but couldn't, and he growled, twisting his fingers roughly inside her.

"Amazing!" She screamed, voice horse. "Perfect. Wonderful!" He hummed against her nub in approval at her words.

"And who makes you feel this way?" She knew the game he was playing now, and it turned her on even more.

"YOU! You do! Only you!"

"Yesssss," he hissed, and began sucking on her once more.

She was close. So close. "Please!" She cried out, desperate for release. "Please, Draco!"

The moment his name left her lips he thrust a third finger inside her and bit down on her clit, and the world exploded, white behind her eyes. He continued to pump her mercilessly through her orgasm, her walls pulsing around his fingers as she screamed her release.

But it wouldn't stop, the pure ecstasy and bliss. She wasn't coming down, and she felt as if she might explode, the pleasure mixing with pain as he nibbled on her sensitive bundle of nerves. It was too much. Too much all at once.

She tried to scream again, tried to tell him she couldn't, that she was breaking apart, but her voice was stuck, so he continued. She bucked her hips, trying to rid herself of him, but he pinned her to the bed with his free hand.

Just when she thought she could take it no more, that she would surely die from so many overwhelming sensations, the pressure peaked again, and she felt herself falling, falling, falling over the edge of a cliff she didn't know she had been teetering on.

A strangled sob escaped her lips and Malfoy released her nub with a popping suck. His fingers slowing within her.

The last thing she heard before blackness overtook her, "Beautiful."


	35. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination.   
> More smut.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open to the sound of her name and a soft caress of her face.

"Granger," it was barely a whisper, "Granger, are you still with me?"

She sat up too quickly, and the room spun around her. She lifted her hand to her head as she willed the wooziness away. There was a soft kiss on her shoulder, and she realized exactly where she was, and who she was with.

She was still naked, but no longer laying at the foot of her bed. Malfoy must have moved her. But when?

"What happened?"

A soft chuckle. "You passed out."

"I what!?" She thought back, trying to remember feeling dizzy or faint, but all she remembered was sheer ecstasy, and she blushed crimson.

Malfoy had been sitting on the side of her bed, but now moved behind her, peppering her back and shoulder with kisses as he wrapped one arm posessively around her waist.

"That was probably my fault, but you look so beautiful when you cum." He began sucking on her neck, and she felt the heat of her blush spread down her chest. "And you taste divine."

She tried to reign in her emotions, to ignore the heat that was again pooling in her abdomen. She rubbed her thighs together and felt the sticky residue of her own juices still lingering between them.

"I-I've never," she paused. "It's never been like that before." He pulled her closer to him, so her back was flush against his chest, and she sighed. The embrace was warm, comforting, grounding after such a high. He seemed to know exactly what she needed.

"Never?" The words echoed in her ear before he pulled her lobe between his teeth.

"Never."

"Pity. But how convenient that you now have the chance to make up for lost time." His other arm wrapped around her, and his hand moved to her clit once more, stroking it lightly.

She winced, her entire body tightening in his arms. It was tender. Very tender, and this time the pain far outweighed the pleasure.

He removed his hand immediately and sighed against the back of her neck. "Another time though. Tonight, you need to rest."

He stood to leave, but she spun around on the bed and grabbed his hand. Malfoy stopped, looking down as her fingers laced with his own, before meeting her eyes. They were soft and bright, and in that instant, she knew what she wanted. She wanted to make him feel the way he had made her feel. Wanted to touch him, to feel him shiver and to hear him moan her name.

"Wait." His head cocked to one side, and his lips parted to speak, but she crawled across the bed and placed a finger to his mouth. He didn't move.

She trailed that finger down his lips, his chin. Across his chest and abdominal muscles, until it met his belt with a clank. His eyes widened a fraction, but he didn't speak. Still didn't move.

Withdrawing her other hand from his, she began undoing his belt, breathing in slowly and deeply, calming her nerves. She wanted to touch him, to feel him, but she wasn't confident in her abilities.

She had used her hands on Ron before, but never for very long. Just a few minutes and then he was either done, or ready for the main event. Could she make this as good for Malfoy as he had made it for her?

Lavender always joked all a wizard needed was a little friction between his legs and he could get off, but Ginny disagreed. She said it was all about the experience, intimate touches and kisses that made sex so good for both parties.

She undid the buttons of his trousers and hooked her fingers into the top. One final breath, and she looked up and into Malfoy's eyes again. They had darkened, and his posture was rigid, restrained.

Before she could overthink it, she pulled his trousers down in one swift motion, and gasped as his length sprung free. Her jaw dropped as she took in the sight of him.

He was larger than Ron. Thicker too, but what she noticed most was the sheer pale smoothness of him. Damn Malfoy, even his cock was beautiful!

She reached forward, gripping him firmly, a familiar feel of steel wrapped in silk. She ran a thumb over his weeping head, and felt his heart speed up through her grip on him.

Slowly, timidly, she began to pump him, marveling at the weight of him in her hand. She hoped she was doing this right, and when a hand rested gently on her head, she looked up at him with wide questioning eyes.

"Gods, Granger." He moaned, and she beamed up at him. A since of pride and determination filling her chest.

She maintained eye contact, and moved her other hand to cup his balls, rolling them in her palm. His mouth, which had been parted slightly, snapped shut with a hiss as his eyes began to roll back behind his lids.

She worked him faster now, all the while massaging, rolling, and tugging gently at his sack. His breath was becoming erratic now, and he ran a hand through his blonde locks, causing parts to stand on end.

She drank in the sight of him, his pants and moans fanning the flame of her own desire. Desire for him. Desire to make him come undone.

Without much thought, she leaned forward and planted a wet kiss to the top of his cock and watched as his eyes shot back down to her. They flashed dark and deep, and she slowed the movement of her hand, her tongue darting out to taste him.

This was something she had never done before. But her friends had told her how much men loved it, and oddly enough, how much they loved doing it for their men.

She licked her lips, and then leaned forward again, pressing the head of his cock past her lips and into the warm cavern of her mouth. She had only been able to take in the first few inches of him, but Hermione was never one to do anything partway.

She began pumping her hand again, moving it slowly between her lips and the small patch of blonde curls at his base. As she did so, she practiced breathing through her nose, relaxing her jaw, and was able to take him in further, inch by inch. Her entire focus was on his engorged member, touching it, caressing it, encasing it in the heat of her mouth as Malfoy's legs began to shake.

A wave of pride welled up within her when she realized Malfoy was cursing under his breath, eyes clenched tightly shut, and the hand on her head was now gripping her hair.

Feeling emboldened by his reactions to her mouth on him, she began to withdraw, sucking him, hallowing her cheeks as she went, before releasing him with a pop, and a strained whimper filled the air.

She stretched her jaw, watching as his cock twitched with need in front of her. She felt strong, powerful, being able to cause such desire within him. She no longer merely _wanted_ to bring him pleasure, she _needed_ to.

Hermione remembered the way she felt when she caused his mask to break, to shatter before him, allowing her to see his face fully without the arrogant Malfoy pride. He was beautiful then, even when that mask had been replaced with rage.

He told her she was beautiful. How would he look as he fell apart, as _she_ made him fall, to break into a million pieces under her touch?

She took him back in her mouth, as far as she could, in one swift movement, before bobbing her head. It was an awkward angle from her seat on the bed, so she brought her hands to Malfoy's thighs and slowly pushed against him, directing him to take a step back. He complied, and she dropped to her knees. This was much better, she thought, and she sped up her pace.

Malfoy had begun his string of whispered curses again, but she longed to hear his voice, longed to know how she was making him feel. She experimented with her movements, pressing her tongue to the large vein, moving her head this way and that.

His hands went to her hair, gripping it firmly, helping to guide her at the pace he liked, but he never pushed her too far or held her too tight, his strangled moans encouraging her as she swallowed him greedily.

She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and his restraint snapped.

"Fuck, Granger!" he growled and began thrusting his hips to meet her lips. "Such a hot little mouth. It feels fantastic." His words washed over her, and she drank in his praise. "You've got the perfect mouth for fucking. Do you like it? Granger? I bet you do. I bet you love me fucking your pretty little mouth?"

She couldn't stop to reply, even if she wanted to. His hands were tangled in her hair, forcing her head to meet the thrust of his hips. His cock hit the back of her throat, and she had to remind herself to breathe through her nose. But he was right, she loved it. He was losing all control, and it was her doing. She hummed her agreeance around his cock, causing him to moan at the vibrations.

"Gods!" he grit out. "Have you ever done this before?" A hummed nuh-uh, and his thrusts sped up. "Do that again," he growled, and she hummed again. "You'll be the death of me, Granger, but not before I sink my cock deep into that perfect pussy."

She moaned, closing her eyes and imagined how he would feel inside her. "Look at me!"

Tears were pricking at her eyes. She thought he must be close though, so she looked up to him, head bobbing up and down his length, tears spilling at the corner of her eyes, saliva and his pre-cum coating her lips.

"Fuck!" He growled, biting his lip as he continued to fuck her mouth." He looked down at her, dark eyes swirling with lust, the lines of his face tight with concentration as he reached for his release.

"Beautiful!" he choked out, and his hips surged forward, forcing every inch of his member into her mouth, his hand holding her head in place until her lips brushed the curls at the base of his cock. He held her there, cock partway down her throat, and she couldn't breathe, but in that moment, she wasn't sure that she needed to.

Malfoy's face was contorted into a look of perfect ecstasy. His eyes closed tightly, biting his lip so hard it began to bleed. But an instant later she felt his balls tighten, his cock pulsed, and he released her head. She pulled back slightly, breathing in through her nose as she felt the hot liquid squirt across her tongue.

She held him in her mouth for a moment. Such an odd, salty taste, but it wasn't bad, so she swallowed, licking his cock clean as she pulled her lips off of him.

She leaned back, sitting on her heels, her back pressed into the frame of the bed. Her head buzzed and she watched Malfoy. His knees were shaky, weak, and he leaned forward to grab the post of her bed to steady himself.

She massaged her throat with her hand as Malfoy attempted to control his breathing. He knelt down in front of her, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb before leaning forward to kiss her, and she tasted the salt of his perspiration on his lips.

He pulled away slowly, wrapping his arms around her waist and legs, lifting her up before depositing her gently on the bed.

Her eyes felt heavy, her body weak, and she turned on her side, drawing her legs up. She needed to sleep, but she didn't want him to leave. Not yet. She didn't want to lose this moment. "Stay with me," she spoke softly. And she felt the bed dip as he crawled in behind her.

"Mine," he whispered as he stroked her hair.

"Yours," she spoke back before sleep finally overtook her.


	36. Shadows in the Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

_She was running, sprinting through the forest. Moss covered the forest floor, padding the steps of her bare feet. All around her she could hear the sounds of nature. Blood pumped through her veins, her adrenaline pushing her faster and further. Wind rushed past her face as she sped up and the sunlight cascaded down through gaps in the canopy overhead, lighting her way._

  
_She felt free and light. Where was she going? She wasn't sure, as if her feet were guiding her of their own accord. She felt pleasure and joy urging her on, a sense of longing and purpose within her grasp. So, she pushed forward, instinct and desire fueling her movements. She felt stronger, braver with each long stride._

  
_The forest could be a dangerous place, but she was not scared. She felt safe as if she had traveled this path a hundred times before. Eventually, she slowed her pace, and found herself in the middle of a small clearing. She leaned back, hands on her hips, as she looked upward, and tried to steady her breath. Her face flushed with exertion._

  
_The leaves had long ago turned to gold, shimmering in the sunlight, and she marveled at their radiance. Small particles fluttered through the air, dancing in the sun's light, sparkling. She glimpsed a thestral flying overhead in the pale blue sky and couldn't shake the familiar feeling of this place._

  
_The sunlight peeked through the canopy of the trees overhead, emitting a beautiful glow as birds sang in the distance. A quiet breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the fading grass around her bare feet, tickling them. She wiggled her toes, giggling at the sensation. This place was beautiful. Peaceful._

  
_It was a peace she hadn't felt in such a long time. She exhaled softly as the breeze whirled around her, causing her long curls to dance across the exposed flesh of her neck. She surveyed her surroundings, taking in the beautiful autumn colors all around her. She always loved watching the seasons change; to see the vibrant greens fade away into yellows, reds, and ambers._

  
_Tiny insects whizzed by her ears now. The sounds of small animals scampering across the fallen leaves echoed through the trees, mingled with the wind and the birds, creating a symphony of sounds. She was safe here wherever she was._

  
_But why had she come here? What had led her to this place?_

  
_She was snapped out of her reverie by a loud rustling of bushes behind her, and she turned, but saw nothing there. She narrowed her eyes, looking further into the dark brush at the edge of the clearing. Whatever had made that noise was large. Much larger than the creatures she heard before. After a few minutes, when she saw no movement and heard nothing else, she dismissed it._

  
_Returning her attention to her feet, she noted her dress. She was barefoot, with cotton bottoms and an oversized shirt. Curious. She couldn't remember how she got here. Didn't remember leaving her flat, or even getting out of bed._

  
_She stiffened as the rustling returned, growing louder this time. The once gentle breeze was now sharp and cold, chilling her to her core, and the birds no longer sang._

  
_A dark cloud passed overhead, blocking out the sun. The surrounding shadows that once danced across the forest floor stretched, seeming to moan as they grew. The hazy clearing disappeared, replaced with a thick dark forest._

  
_Suddenly she heard the rush of paws and claws behind her. On instinct, she ran into the darkness, but so did the creature. The sound of crunching twigs and leaves followed her, as if right on her heels._

  
_She crashed through the forest searching for a ray of lingering sunlight, the light of a wand, anything to lead her out of the woods and away from whatever was chasing her. But all she saw were shadowy figures lingering in the darkness. She didn't know if her feet were taking her toward safety or further into danger. All she knew was she needed to run._

  
_Adrenaline coursed through her again, but unlike before, this time, it was rooted in fear. In her heart, she knew she could not evade the beast on her heels for long. Her mind told her if she faltered for even a moment, it would be upon her in seconds. Was this it? Was this how she would finally meet her end? Not in battle, but alone in the dark?_

  
_Droplets of water misted her face as she ran, mingling with the moisture of her own tears. She continued to flee, willing her clumsy legs to move faster, to take her further away from the monster at her back, but the dense trees obstructed her path. She ducked, barely missing limbs and branches along the way as she felt a cold sweat break out over her skin. Her feet hurt. Her pulse raced._

  
_The terrain was becoming rougher, small rocks and roots digging into her feet. Sharp branches hit her legs, scraping them and causing her to lose her footing. She was definitely heading deeper into the forest. She was sure now. She needed to find shelter, somewhere to hide until she could discern what direction was home._

  
_She was fast, but surely this thing was faster. Why hadn't it pounced? Why hadn't it attacked yet? She no longer heard its steps, only her own as she felt the skin of her soles begin to break and bleed. Perhaps it had given up. Perhaps it was gone, but she didn't dare look back._

  
_She spotted a row of massive trees, their trunks solid and wide. She could hide there. A quick glance to her right, and she made an abrupt turn, spinning to press herself against them. As she stood still, her adrenaline rush faded, and her breath came in sharp loud gasps._

  
_Her hands shot to cover her mouth, to silence herself, but it was no use._

  
_A low growl was the only warning she had before the creature came crashing down on top of her. Its weight knocked her off balance and sent her sprawling forward onto the forest floor, and she let out a whimper of pain. She could feel its paws on her back, its claws pressing into her sensitive flesh._

  
_She tried reaching for her wand, only to realize she did not have it. Her only chance was to fight. Struggling against the immense weight on top of her, she somehow managed to roll onto her back. When she looked up she finally caught sight of the creature. Its eyes glowed an unnatural hue of silver. Its fur a bright, unblemished shade of white, a stark contrast against the blackened canopy of the trees above them._

  
_It stared down at her, as she started up into those dangerous and familiar silver eyes. She froze, waiting for it to strike, gripping the dirt and leaves at her side in tight fists. She knew it was coming, braced herself for it, but when it's long porcelain fangs dug into the meat her shoulder the pain was more searing than she could ever imagine. A moment later the beast withdrew its teeth from her flesh, licking the wound it had made before hovering again over her. Eyes searching._

  
_Her vision was blurred, her head spun. She felt like she was falling. Falling deep into an abyss. She parted her lips to scream, to make any sort of sound, but her voice had left her. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and she struggled to keep them open, to keep them on the monster. With all the strength she could muster, she opened them wide one last time._

  
_The fur around its mouth was matted, red with her own blood. She watched as a perfect droplet formed on one of its elongated fangs, suspended on its tip for a microsecond, before falling, landing with a splash on her chest. It's breath was ragged, its eyes closed, breathing in the aroma around them. Rain. Dirt. Sweat. And Blood._

  
_She could stay away no longer, but the last thought that crossed her mind before she left consciousness, her final emotion toward this horrible creature that attacked her, frightened her to her core._

  
_He was...beautiful..._

  
Hermione woke with a start, her breath ragged and harsh. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, her room. It had all been a dream. She hadn't been in the forest at all that night, she had been in her bed, with Malfoy.

  
She reached her arm out, searching for the blonde wizard, for the comfort and familiar feeling of his warmth, but all her hand found was a cold rumpled sheet.


	37. Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Two weeks. It had been two bloody weeks and Hermione had neither seen nor heard anything of Draco Malfoy. Sitting amongst her colleagues, she tapped her quill against a stack of parchments. Another pointless meeting. Usually Hermione enjoyed their staff meetings, diligently taking notes and participating in the conversation. She watched as the ink splattered across its surface.

 

He had left during the night, leaving her to ponder on the oddity of her dream alone. Sunday had been a mindless blur as she went through the motions of her day, void of her usual vigor.

 

She supposed she wasn't really surprised. She doubted he was accustomed to waking up next to a witch he had ravaged the night before, but she thought she was different. It had felt different. Was she only fooling herself?

 

She thought of owling him, but would that make her appear too eager? Too desperate? She decided to wait for him to contact her first.

 

When an entire week passed without hearing from him, she was filled with sadness and self-doubt. What had she done wrong?

 

It was obvious he was physically attracted to her, wanted her. He made that abundantly clear. Had she not lived up to his expectations?

 

Partway through the second week she was no longer sad. She was downright mad. How dare he! How dare he use her like a common money-hungry whore. She was Hermione Granger. Best friend of Harry Potter. The brightest witch of her age.

 

She had come to a decision. She would confront him. And she would make damn sure he knew that she would never be treated like that again.

 

Yesterday she sent an official memo requesting his presence for a meeting. In the memo, she stated they needed to discuss allocations of his financial backing of S.P.E.W. She made sure it was delivered to his office at Malfoy Industries and included an agenda for him to review.

 

His assistant replied, letting her know Malfoy would be available the following afternoon after 4pm.  Included in the reply was a day pass granting access to their office's floo network.

 

It was now 3:47pm.

 

Mathilda called an end to the meeting and for once, Hermione was the first out the door, pushing past her coworkers without so much as a 'pardon me'.

 

Grabbing her cloak and pass, she quickly made her way down to the atrium and toward the nearest floo. Malfoy wasn't going to know what hit him.

 

Malfoy industries was a cold and formal place. All sleek black marble and ornate silver trimmings. She signed in at the front desk, finding it odd that she was to check her wand before being led to the lift.

 

"This will take you directly to Mr. Malfoy's floor." A beautiful slender witch informed her. "You will need to alert his secretary of your arrival and she will inform you when he is ready for your meeting."

 

 

Hermione nodded her head. "Mr. Malfoy has scheduled you for one hour. Go on, he does not accept tardiness." Hermione could not help but snort at this statement. Leave it to Malfoy to expect punctuality of others but to ignore it himself.

 

The lift doors closed, and she steeled her nerves once more.

 

His secretary barely acknowledged her arrival, waving her hand dismissively toward the seating area. "Mr. Malfoy will be ready in a moment."

 

Hermione took her seat and smoothed the fabric of her skirt as she waited. A buzzing noise echoed through the room, and she heard his voice for the first time since that night.

 

"Priscilla, please show Miss Granger in."

 

She stood and walked back to the desk, expecting the dark-haired witch to stand and lead her to his office, but again was met with a wave of her hand. "Down the hall, second door on the right." She hadn't even looked up from her Witch Weekly.

 

The walk was longer than she anticipated, and she felt her resolve falter slightly when she finally came to the large wooden door. Should she knock? No, she was expected, and she was here for one reason and one reason only, to give the high and mighty Draco Malfoy a piece of her mind.

 

There was no real need to meet with him for the budget. She fabricated the entire thing, she only wanted to ensure he would agree to the meeting.

 

Confidently, she pushed the door open wide and strode forward, but she was unprepared for what happened next.

 

The moment she stepped foot into his office she felt a hand wrap around her arm, pulling her to the side and spinning her to face him. The door slammed shut, and he pressed his body firm against her, leaning his head down to breathe her in.

 

His scent was intoxicating, but she fought her body's urge to melt into his form and stepped away, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing, even as he saw her face flush.

 

"There will be none of….that today Malfoy," and she motioned her hand between them.

 

A smirk crept across his face and he moved his hands to his pockets. "Come now, Granger. We both know you're not here to discuss galleons today."

 

So he figured it out. Knew it was merely an excuse to see him. But clearly he had gotten the wrong impression. She was not here for that.

 

"You're right." She huffed. "But I am not here to repeat any of the events that occurred at the gala." She paused before adding. "Or after."

 

Malfoy took a step forward, causing her to move backward to retain the much needed space between them. She anticipated he would try to intimidate her, and she knew enough of her body's reaction to him to know she needed to keep him at a distance.

 

"What are you here for then?" He asked. Another step.

 

 

"To inform you that that will never happen again." Another step.

 

"Our relationship moving forward will be entirely professional." He took two more long strides forward, and she felt the backs of her knees hit against something smooth as she retreated further into the room. Without looking to see what it was, she continued.

 

"I am not one of your common slags, Malfoy. And I refuse to be treated as such ever again!"

 

All mirth and humor left his face at her words, leaving only his mask. "I may have treated you a lot of ways, Granger. But I have NEVER treated you like a slag!" His words were sharp and firm. Hermione laughed.

 

"Really!? Then how do you explain your actions!?" She shouted. "You leave in the middle of the night without a word. And I hear nothing from you for weeks! How else do you treat your whores?"

 

Malfoy rushed forward, closing the distance between them, setting her off balance and causing her to fall back onto a plush sofa. He leaned forward, pressing his hands into the back of the sofa on either side of her head.

 

"If you were simply a shag, don't you think we would have, you know, shagged that night?"

 

She sucked in a breath. He was so close again. "Perhaps you were upset you didn't get what you wanted from me that night. Not up for a challenge, Malfoy? Too used to women throwing themselves at you in hopes of securing your family's fortune?"

 

A growl emanated from his chest as he grit his teeth. "You're right." Her heart sank. "I didn't get what I wanted from you…. yet." Her pulse raced and her lips fell apart with a gasp.

 

Malfoy took advantage of her parted lips, swooping down to capture them. His tongue dipped into her mouth, tasting her, and she had to stop herself from kissing him back. He tasted of tea and honey, his lips moving against hers as she fought to keep still.

 

Her anger resurfaced, and she bit down, catching his bottom lip between her teeth until she tasted blood.

 

"Shite!" He shouted, before stumbling back, his hand moving to his red stained lip. A single drop slid down his chin, and she watched as it fell to the floor.

 

"Bloody hell witch! What is wrong with you!?"

 

She stood again. "YOU! You are what is wrong with me! You come to my door, full of pretty words and empty promises and take advantage of me!"

 

"I DID NO SUCH THING!"

 

"You did! You knew how I felt about you and you used it against me! You told me you wanted me! Told me you needed me! You gave me something I thought was special and meaningful, and then after you slither away into the night like the snake that you are!"

 

 

Tears began to fall down her face, angering her even more that she was becoming so emotional. "I thought you had let me in! Thought you showed me a real part of yourself. But it was all a game to you. What? Did you have some bet with your Slytherin buddies? Bet some money you could get the golden girl to fall for you? Did you run to their house and fill them in on all the sorted details? Tell them how you made me beg for you? Moan for you? Scream your name?"

 

Heat was pooling behind his eyes, causing them to darken and swirl. He had that dangerous look about him again. His jaw clenched in a tight line as she spit her words at him with as much hatred as she felt.

 

"Did you tell them what I did? Tell them how I sucked your prick? How you had the prudish Gryffindor gagging on your cock? Well, I hoped you enjoyed it because that will NEVER happen again!"

 

She couldn't be near him any longer. She pushed past him and headed toward the door, desperate to leave, but his arms circled around her waist, pulling her firm against his chest.

 

"I did slink away, but not for the reasons you think." She let out a shuttered breath, trying to stop her tears.

 

"I dreamed of you that night." The gears in Hermione's head began to turn, but before they could click into place, Malfoy continued.

 

"There was no bet. I've told no one what happened between us, although I think Blaise suspects."

 

What did Blaise have to do with this?

 

"But I have thought about that night. I've replayed every second of it over and over in my mind. The feel of your body against mine. The way you quivered beneath my touch." His hand began to move in soothing circles across her stomach and she gasped.

 

"The taste of your juices on my tongue." He flicked that sinful tongue against the shell of her ear. "And the sight you made as you fell apart. Merlin," he ground his hips against her backside, "I lost count of how many times I've wanked to that image. Your hair spread out around you, body sleek with sweat, screaming my name." He growled. "MY name, and no one else's."

 

Hermione felt the familiar heat rising within her, pooling in her abdomen at his words. She wanted him to touch her again, the way he had that night, to relive that sheer ecstasy he described. He ground against her again, and this time, she rocked her hips in time.

 

His fingers dug into her stomach and hip at her response to him, and she could feel his length hardening behind her. He trailed his tongue from her ear down her neck, and her head fell to the side, granting him access.

 

 

 

"And I _have_ thought about what you did, how you put my cock in that hot little mouth of yours, where no man had ever been before? How you let me fuck your face. You loved that, didn't you? The way my cock hit the back of your throat, the taste of my cum on your tongue. Didn't you?" He punctuated his question with a quick thrust of his hips and moved a hand to cup her throat, tilting her head back to rest on his broad shoulders.

 

She felt her knickers go damp as she sighed her reply. "Yes, I loved it!"

 

"What did you love about it? How did it make you feel?" His voice was soft and sultry in her ear.

 

"I liked making you feel good. I loved the way you looked. I felt powerful."

 

"You felt powerful?" He trailed his fingers from her neck down her breastbone to her cleavage, then back up again.

 

"Yessss," she hissed.

 

"You liked how I used your mouth to reach my own pleasure?"

 

"Very much."

 

"What about when I made you come? When I fucked you with my fingers and my mouth until you couldn't take it anymore until you passed out from the intensity of your own orgasm?"

 

"It was incredible."

 

"You were incredible." Her heart skipped a beat at his praise. She had questioned her skill countless times since that night, especially after she did not hear from him. Despite her prior anger, her heart soared at the confirmation he had enjoyed their night together as much as she had.

 

"Not every witch could have taken what I gave you, but you did. You're so strong, Hermione, so brave." Her name, he said her first name, and it sounded beautiful.

 

"Say it again," she all but whispered.

 

"So strong. So brave. So-"

 

"No," she interrupted, "My name. Say it again."

 

His grip on her throat tightened, and he moved his other hand to massage her core through her skirt. "Hermione," he purred, and she moaned.

 

"Hermione." He reached his hand to gather the hem of her skirt in his hand, pulling it up and over her hips.

 

"Hermione." He hooked the edge of her knickers with one finger, moving them to the side.

 

"Hermione." His fingers circled her entrance before plunging inside her roughly. Simultaneously he squeezed her throat and pulling her head back. This caused her to arch her back in a way that allowed his fingers to sink fully within her.

 

"Draco!" she let out a strangled shout, as he pumped his fingers inside her heat. His hand on her throat made it harder to breathe, almost impossible to talk, but it didn't scare her. Once again he was forcing her to ride out the dual sensations of pleasure and pain. She started to rock her hips, trying to meet the thrust of his fingers, to feel more of him inside her.

 

He chuckled gently into her ear. "So eager, love. So desperate for more. I enjoy seeing you like this. Wild and free, a lioness in heat." Another strangled moan, and Hermione could feel the pressure within her belly grow.

 

 

 

"More! Please!" she managed to shout.

 

"You need more, love?" She didn't think she could speak again, so she nodded her head against his shoulder.

 

"I'll give you more. I'll give you everything you need, but you have to do one thing for me, princess. Can you promise me one thing?" Again, she nodded her head.

 

"Good. Such a good girl." Her heart swelled again, only slightly embarrassed by how eager she was to please him.

 

"You will not come." Her eyes shot open wide. "Not until I tell you. It won't be easy, love. But you are strong. You can do this. I know you can. Will you promise me?" Reluctantly, she nodded, but he tutted behind her.

 

"Say it. I need to hear you say the words." He loosened his grip on her throat, allowing her to breathe a little better, and her voice returned.

 

"Yes. I promise." She spoke between gasps and moans.

 

The hand at her throat moved back down to her waist, wrapping firmly around her and lifted her up so only her toes tapped against the hard marble floor. Then he added a third finger inside her, stretching her roughly, but in a delicious and sinful way. Her vision was blurring again, and she felt her orgasm approaching quickly.

 

She wanted to give in, to embrace the flood and fall headfirst into the abyss, but she did not. Tensing her muscles around his fingers in an attempt to keep her orgasm at bay. His fingers slowed within her, and she gasped in relief as she felt the pressure ease, though only slightly.

 

She felt them fall back with a bounce, and she realized Malfoy had moved them back across the room, setting them down on the sofa. Never stopping the slow rhythm of his fingers, he removed his hand from her waist and pulled out his wand. A whispered spell and suddenly there was a long footstool in front of them.

 

He widened his knees, and she sunk down an inch or two until she could feel the smooth leather against the backs of her thighs. Tossing his wand to the side, he lifted her left leg, placing her foot on the stool, before tapping her right knee, signaling for her to do the same with her right. She obeyed without hesitation, her knees now resting together, level with her chest.

 

The fingers inside her sped up, each time hitting that sweet sweet spot deep inside her, rewarding her for her compliance. The pressure built again, but she resisted the urge to reach for her pleasure still.

 

"So tight," he spoke. "So hot." His hand slid back up her thigh until he reached her knee, and he pulled it to the side, spreading her legs wide.

 

Anxiety swept through her, overcome with embarrassment at being spread open. She was suddenly aware of exactly where they were, and her head shot up and to the door. Anyone could walk in. The woman downstairs said Malfoy had scheduled her meeting for an hour. How long had she been here? She didn't see a clock.

 

 

Sensing her anxiety as if he could read her thoughts, he began to rub his hand soothingly up and down the inside of her thigh, whispering into her ear.

 

"No one will bother us. The door is locked, and I put silencing charms up the moment you stepped through my door." Her body relaxed, and she began writhing against his fingers, forgetting her promise.

 

Malfoy had not. He stilled the digits within her, just as she was about to reach her release, and she whimpered in protest. She could feel his body vibrate with laughter beneath her.

 

"Not yet, love. Not yet."

 

"Sorry," she wasn't sure why, but she felt like she needed to apologize. Slowly, he began to pump his fingers in and out of her again, and she felt as if she could feel it in every inch of her body.

 

The hand on her thigh moved to her center, rubbing small circles over her swollen nub. All air seemed to vacate her lungs. Without warning, Malfoy began to fuck her mercilessly with his fingers and she clenched her eyes shut. Spots appeared behind her eyelids as he rubbed his other hand against her clit with more speed and more force, bringing her to the edge of her orgasm in seconds.

 

She tensed every muscle in her body, praying to every god she could remember to keep herself from climaxing. She held her breath as if it would aide in her mental struggle against her own body. Then finally, a voice floated through the air, a sultry purr of the only word she wanted to hear in this moment.

 

"Come." And just like that, her world exploded, her orgasm ripping through her like nothing she ever felt before. Her toes curled, and she dug her fingers into Malfoy's forearms. She tried to scream, tried to shout her pleasure to the heavens and back, but all that came out was a strangled cry.

 

She gasped for air as her body convulsed around Malfoy's fingers. Though he had stilled those inside her, his other hand still assaulted her swollen clit with even more pressure than before.

 

The world went black around her, but only for a second. Then she was being wrapped in a pair of strong, warm arms. Malfoy's hands were no longer on her abused center, but tenderly caressing her arms as he tucked her legs against her own body, turned sideways in his lap.

 

He rocked her gently, and she realized he was whispering sweetly in her hear.

 

"You were so strong, Hermione. So beautiful. You did so well. I'm so proud of you...Perfect...beautiful...all for me..." His words were fading in and out now, her eyelids growing heavy, her breathing shallow.

 

"Stay with me, Granger." His voice sounded far away. "I've got you. Stay with me. I know you can."

 

The feel of his soft lips pressed tenderly against her own brought her back out of her haze and she began kissing him back. He pulled away, pressing his forehead against her own as his molten silver eyes swirled with desire.

 

 

 

"There you are. I thought I lost you." She hummed in turn, her body buzzing in the afterglow of her orgasm. "Are you hungry?" She nodded her head.

 

"Famished!" A dark chuckle filled the room, cause her to grin widely up at him. Malfoy grabbed his wand, pointing it toward the intercom box with purpose.

 

"Priscilla! Cancel the rest of my appointments. And order up some dinner for Miss Granger and myself. Our business here is running a tad long."

 

Hermione didn't miss the double meaning, or the sparkle in his eye as he winked down at her with a smirk.

 

"Yes Mr. Malfoy," the flat bored voice of his secretary echoed back.

 

Hermione stared up at the man holding her gently in his arms.

 

The skin of hip bottom lip was broken and bleeding, staining his mouth red.

 

His blonde hair stood on end, a stark white against the back backdrop of the marble wall behind him.

 

His eyes, an impossible shade of silver, bore into her honey brown ones.

 

He was...beautiful.


	38. June 5th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Hermione stood in front of the mirror glaring daggers at her own reflection.

"Idiot!" She scolded and was only irritated further when mirror Hermione did not look properly chastised. She crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing.

Her meeting with Malfoy had been a complete failure. Well, perhaps not a failure but she had failed in her attempt to return her relationship with the blonde heir to a professional one. Despite her many growing emotions in regard to Malfoy, she still longed for a simpler time. The time when familiar animosity was the strongest of her feelings for the wizard.

Though her focus on work had been lacking, she had felt at peace these last few days; once she had allowed her anger toward him to return and reign free. She was tired. Tired of his back and forth personalities and her equally conflicting emotions toward him.

She was always one step behind him, one puzzle piece away from figuring him out, from deciphering the enigma of Draco Malfoy. She had finally realized, she would never learn him, never fully. He wouldn't allow it. He only ever allowed people to see what he wanted them to. She thought he let her in, but he had only chosen to allow her to see more because he wanted something more from her.

This was Malfoy. Things were always going to be confusing and frustration. He was never going to tell her how he felt….if he felt anything at all. There would always be more questions than answers. She knew she needed to put an end to it, or she would go on forever, chasing him, picking up clues along the way as he let them fall behind him.

She had been so close, almost out his office and away from his eyes, and his scent, and that smug smirk. Then he had to do a thing like touch her, and she lost all sense of rational thought. And she had left his office with even more unanswered questions.

But who could blame her? The things he said. Merlin, he had a filthy mouth. And she loved it.

What was happening to her!?

Her first thought when she looked mirror Hermione in the eye had been that he was using her. But looking back, she had to admit that Malfoy had been solely focused on her. Even that first night, he had been about to leave without a release of his own. She had been the one to stop him. To ask him to stay.

And this afternoon, once he had mercifully allowed her to cum, he had done nothing but feed her….and evade her questions.

* * *

**TWO HOURS EARLIER**

Hermione could have choked on the silence. It felt thick. She stared down at her half empty plate again and pondered how one made small talk with Draco Malfoy. He hadn't spoken in nearly 20 minutes, quietly eating his bloody steak, avoiding eye contact.

Why? Was it because of his choice in meals?

At first, as she watched the blood and juices ooze from the meat as he stabbed it with his fork, she had been sure she would be sick. Who ate their steak that raw?

As soon as the thought popped into her mind, she could have slapped herself for her foolishness. Instead, she mumbled ridiculously under her breath shaking her head as she shoved another piece of salmon into her mouth. Of course, Malfoy liked his steak raw, or rather, his Wolf did.

Hermione cocked her head to the side and examined him as she chewed. Though clearly quite hungry, he ate with perfect manors, restraining himself from devouring the meal too quickly.

She knew from Bill and Lavender the Wolf would always be hungry. Was that the right thing to say? 'His Wolf.' 'The Wolf.' Was it a separate being? Or was it simply Malfoy now? She wondered how similar or different his condition was to her friends, and she longed to unravel that mystery. Studying him, learning about the effects an attack by werewolf pups could prove incredibly valuable to her department. But she knew Malfoy would never allow himself to be 'studied' and examined.

Malfoy didn't comment on her behavior as she watched him, merely looked over at her through hooded lashes. "Go ahead."

"What?" Startled, she almost dropped her fork.

"Ask your questions. I can hear that big brain of yours working." Setting her utensils down gently on her plate, she sat up straight, trying her best to not appear too eager.

"What is it like?"

"You will have to be more specific than that, Granger."

"Since your…..traits emerged," Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue. "Is that what it feels like? Traits? Something new, but entirely a part of you? Or is it something different, a separate persona under the surface, pushing you, urging you to act contrary to your wishes?"

His eyes returned to the plate in front of him, and he exhaled firmly as he began to push the vegetables around with his fork. Malfoy didn't like peas, she'd known that since their eighth year, when she had dedicated so much of her time studying him.

"It's neither, really." Hermione felt her heart sink.

"But also, both?" He looked up at her now, meeting the question in her eyes with a look of resignation. He didn't want to talk about this, but he was trying. That was more than she expected. She wanted to ask him more while he was still willing to discuss it, but instead, she found herself ignoring it completely with her next question.

"Why did you leave?" His eyes widened a fraction, before his mask slid firmly into place. Fuck.

"I have," he looked away, "duties that must be attended to." Well that was about as clear as mud.

"What sort of duties are required of you at 3 in the morning?" She didn't even try to hide the bitterness in her tone.

"There were certain events I needed to prepare for, and I thought it best-"

"What events!?" Hermione threw her napkin down in front of her and crossed her arms. "Just What was so important?"

His eyes flashed hot, and Hermione knew he was getting angry. So what? She was angry too.

"I thought it best not to wake you." He grit out through clenched teeth. "And if you must know, it was regarding my birthday." Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Y-your birthday?"

"Yes."

She scanned her memories, his birthday. When was his birthday? She remembered Malfoy receiving a ridiculous number of packages every year, but never one for his birthday. She had always assumed that meant his birthday was later in the year, but if his birthday was during year end exams, it was quite possible she was too busy studying to notice. She had a habit of missing meals in the great hall.

"June 5th."

June 5th, the Monday after the gala. The morning after he snuck out of her bed without a word. That still didn't explain it.

"What? Is the birth of a Malfoy so important you need an entire day to prepare yourself for the onslaught of gifts?"

Malfoy stood abruptly and moved to a large mantle on the opposite side of the room. She hadn't even noticed the fireplace. She supposed that was his personal floo, and for an instant, she became bitter that she had not been granted access to it. That despite Malfoy's assumption on the real reason for her visit, that he had forced her through the ceremony of arriving at Malfoy Industries as a business associate.

Leaning forward, Malfoy rested a hand on the mantle, staring down into the cool ashes littered across it's floor.

"It was my 21st birthday. I wouldn't expect you to understand, but there are certain Pureblood customs that one cannot disregard simply because they wish to."

So, it was some sort of ridiculous Pureblood excuse. "You wouldn't expect me to understand? Why? Because I'm still some filthy little Mudblood?"

He was at her feet so quickly, it made her head spin.

"Don't!"

That was all he said. That was all she needed him to say. His mask forgotten, his eyes swirled with unchecked emotions. She wasn't sure which ones, but she knew at that moment that he did not see her that way any longer. But how did he see her?

* * *

Hermione sighed. After her Mudblood comment, she had gotten nothing else out of Malfoy. It was infuriating, the way he dodged her questions and distracted her with small touches and those impossible eyes.

Something was going on though, she knew that much. He was hiding something from her. The reason he ignored her for weeks. Despite sharing a small piece of himself with her, he was still the same Malfoy, stubborn to the core. But she was just as stubborn and determined to boot.

Making her way into her bedroom, she sat at her small desk, grabbing a parchment and quill from under the massive pile of books. Without a second thought, she began scribbling furiously. She would get to the bottom of this, and she knew how.

"Ginny!" She shouted out, as she finished addressing the envelope. A minute later, the red-head appeared in her doorway, still clad in her uniform and caked in mud.

"Yea, Mione?"

"Are you going to Harry's tonight?"

"After I shower."

"Good, will you send this off for me?" She walked to meet her friend, placing the sealed envelope in her hand. Ginny eyed it before looking up at Hermione.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely! And by the way, clear your schedule for Saturday. We are having a guest over for tea."


	39. Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination

The trio sat in awkward silence on the sofa. Dressed much more formally than they were used to, but Hermione had been very specific when detailing today's 'dress code.'

"I don't understand why _I'm_ here, Mione. Surely you don't need me, and when I left, Ron and Lavender were trying to cook the Muggle way. If I stay away too long, I might not have a home to go back to." Harry moved to stand, but Hermione reached her arm out and across his chest, caging him in.

"Stay right where you are, Harry. You'd be of no use to them, anyway. I've had your cooking." Hermione eyed him in a way that left no room for debate while Ginny chuckled at his side.

"I have no idea why you are in a hurry to leave. This tea is going to be a _disaster!"_ she leaned forward to look at Hermione around Harry's form. "No offense." She then returned her attention to her fiancé. "It _will_ be a disaster."

"Thank you _so_ much for your support, Gin." Hermione drawled. The red-head had been entirely too excited about today. She heard a bag rustling and then loud crunching on the other side of the sofa. Leaning forward, she saw Ginny, a white and red striped bag in hand, munching happily on popcorn. Where in Godric's name did she get _that?_

Hermione glared at her best girlfriend, but Ginny had long ago become immune to her intimidating demeanor, unlike Harry and Ron. So rather than cowering as they would do, she popped another piece in her mouth, chewing it slowly before glancing back to Hermione out of the corner of her eye.

"Disaster."

A wave of her wand and Hermione vanished the bag and its contents, causing Ginny to laugh.

"Can I at least sit somewhere else?" Harry whined. "Us all sitting on the sofa is terribly odd. And uncomfortable."

"Harry Potter, you will sit right there, and you will act happy about it." Harry sighed, relaxing into the sofa as much as possible before Hermione slapped him square in the chest. "And sit up straight! I've told you, we are doing this the proper way."

Hermione had scoured Diagon Alley for any book available on Pureblood etiquettes. Much to her dismay, there was little information to be found. She finally located a few biographical texts detailing some ancient pureblood families.

They were terribly expensive and full of bigoted views and self-praise of their blood purity, but she was able to deduce enough from their idiotic ramblings to formulate an idea on how 'proper' pureblood women entertained guests.

* * *

 

**THE PRIOR EVENING**

"So, are you going to clue me in on why we are doing this? Or am I going to need to hold your books hostage until I get some answers?" Hermione looked up from her desk, an expression of outrage on her face at the thought of what Ginny might do to her books.

"I have unanswered questions. And when seeking information from a Slytherin, sometimes one must think and act like a Slytherin." Ginny laughed.

"I would never have admitted this before, but I've often times thought you had some of that snake-like cunning in you, Mione." Hermione eyed her warningly.

"It's a means to an end."

"There it is again!" Ginny burst into another fit of laughter as Hermione scoffed, returning to her reading, scribbling notes as she went. Ginny moved to sit on the bed and eyed the expensive looking robes lain across it.

"You went shopping?" Hermione didn't respond.

"You _loathe_ shopping!"

"I didn't have anything suitable to wear," Hermione answered flatly.

"There's something you aren't telling me. You are going to great lengths for this tea tomorrow. And when did you start scheming on your own? Don't you know that's what me and the boys are for?" Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that last part. Ginny was right, they were usually in it together, but not this time. This time, the less they knew, the better.

"What exactly is it that you are hoping to find out about Malfoy tomorrow?"

Hermione froze. She hadn't informed Ginny about the latest evolution in her relationship with Malfoy. And she wasn't sure she wanted to, even now that she needed her help. Did that make her a bad friend? No, she simply did not want to tell anyone until she had things figured out. Until she knew what he was keeping from her. But still, her friend deserved to know _something_ of the truth.

She eyed the small vile of liquid on her desk, stoppered and unlabeled, and then turned in her chair to face the red-head. "The last time I spoke to Malfoy was at his office. I requested a meeting with him to discuss his contributions." Not a lie.

"At the end of that meeting, I asked why he had not been in contact with me after the gala." Ginny arched her eyebrows, causing Hermione to sigh.

"He mentioned his birthday, and then some cryptic nonsense about Pureblood custom and some obligation that he was unable to avoid." Still not a lie.

"And this concerns you...how, exactly?" Ginny smirked.

"I simply feel that I should know the type of man I am in business with," she huffed. It sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud. But the full truth would have been much worse.

_I'm in the middle of a sorted physical relationship with our former deatheater classmate. He's given me the most intense orgasms of my life and he disappeared from my bed in the middle of the night and I need to know why._

Nope. That was not something she was willing to share at this moment.

"Are you curious because you are concerned Malfoy has a hidden agenda for his involvement with S.P.E.W. or because you fancy him?" Hermione's jaw dropped as Ginny waggled her eyebrows at her.

"I do not _fancy_ Draco Malfoy!"

"You know I don't believe you, right? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for you moving on and finding a fit wizard to shag. And one doesn't get more fit than Malfoy, despite your complicated past. I'm just worried this is becoming an obsession."

She had a point, she supposed.

"And why all the formality? Why do we have to pretend this is something other than what it is? Have you considered just _asking_ if-"

"Asking won't yield results!" She interrupted. "You know who we are dealing with here? If I just show up and ask straight out, I will get nothing but more cryptic answers, or a door shut in my face! Just, please Ginny, trust me?"

Ginny's eyes softened at the pleading tone in Hermione's voice. "Ok then, tell me what I need to do." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into her pocket and pulled out her notes.

* * *

 

"You still haven't told me _why_ I'm here. I don't live here, and quite frankly, I want no part in whatever plan you have concocted. I'm in enough danger of Malfoy hexing my bollocks as it is. I don't fancy giving him another reason."

"You are here, Harry because it would be improper for two single witches to extend such an invitation without a wizard present," Hermione paraphrased, remembering the texts she had read.

"That's complete rubbish! Is that what you found in those ridiculous books? I hardly believe that anyone acts this way anymore."

"And I believe you are giving some people too much credit. Many of the so-called sacred 28 still hold true to the old wizarding customs."

"But-"

"As do those that travel in their circles." She continued. "Business, networking, the gathering of information, it is all done with formality and structure. If I'm going to play their game, then I need to meet them on their playing field."

"So you've created this elaborate act?"

"Yes. And it will work. I simply can not be the one to broach the topic. I'm merely offering a scenario in which it will arise sooner rather than later."

 _And then offering some additional 'encouragement' to get the answers I need,_ she thought.

"And if it doesn't go according to plan?"

"It will."

"But if it doesn't?"

Just then there was a knock at the door, and Hermione shot up, casting another glance to her friends. "Just, remember your talking points. I won't have those cards I made you both go to waste."

Harry groaned and Ginny giggled.

"Harry, _please_ tell me you read them."

"There were just so many!"

"I don't know why you are so concerned about Malfoy, Harry," Ginny spoke. "Your bits are in _much_ greater danger from Hermione right now than from ferret boy."

"Unbelievable!" Another knock. "I am going to welcome our guest. Ginny, best behavior! Harry, just...stay quiet I suppose!"

She rushed down the hall. A calming breath and she opened the door wide, greeted with a pair of warm brown eyes and a toothy grin.

"Hermione, I was beginning to wonder if I had the wrong address." He purred.

"My apologies, Zabini. Please, come in."

She extended her arm, motioning for Blaise to enter. He stepped forward, and she ignored the way his eyes roamed over her body. She felt uncomfortable wearing such expensive robes in her home, but she noted that the dark-skinned wizard was also dressed much more formally than usual. Good, so far they were on equal ground.

She offered to take his cloak, and he removed it with a practiced flourish.

_Every encounter is a show. Make proper use of your talents and skills. Exhibit your power and prestige at every opportunity._

The words rang in her head. Blaise extended his cloak, but rather than accepting it as she normally would, she brandished her wand, sending the garment floating through the air and down the hallway until it landed gently on the coat rack.

Blaise's eyes shot up, and she grinned smugly at his expression. It was common knowledge Hermione preferred to do most things the muggle way. But again, not this time. Not today.

She practices polite small-talk as she escorted Blaise further into her home, inquiring after his health and that of his mother's. Harry and Ginny both stood as they entered the room. A round of formal greetings commenced before they all sat down.

"Tea?" Hermione offered?

"Of course," Blaise smirked. "That _is_ why I was invited. Wasn't it?" There was a hint of mirth in his eyes.

Hermione grit back a glare at his tone and summoned the tray with a flick of her wrist. She could see the look of shock on Blaise's face as she wandlessly directed the tray to the table between them. With a smirk of her own, she began serving her guests.

Some 30 minutes later, Blaise was regaling them with tales of his time spent in Italy, superficial modesty pouring from his lips. The Gryffindors were almost in physical pain bitting back their scathing remarks. He was beginning to tell them of his villa there when there was a pecking at the window, and his eyes shot up and toward the sound.

 _Finally,_ Hermione thought. She had expected Narcissa's owl much sooner. "Excuse me," and she made her way across the room with as much grace as she could fake.

Blaise eyed the owl suspiciously, taking in Hermione's every move and expression. She had expected this, so she made every effort to keep her face devoid of all emotion as she took the small envelope from the bird's leg.

She skimmed the letter, not really caring what it said anyway, and then tucked it away in her robes as she returned to her seat.

"Pardon the interruption. Blaise, you were telling us of your villa. Will you be returning there anytime soon?"

Blaise's eyes traveled back and forth, between Hermione and the window where the elegant owl had just been.

"Sadly, no. My Mother is there on Holiday, and prefers that she and her _companions_ retain their privacy."

"Understandable," she replied, reaching for her cup and saucer, careful to keep them close together as she took a dainty sip.

"Have you ever been to Italy, Hermione?"

"I have not, but-"

"You really _must_ visit. It is a beautiful country. You would fit in quite nicely there."

Hermione blushed at the subtle compliment. Despite her best efforts, she was still unaccustomed to mention of her being beautiful.

"Oh, Blaise, you are too kind. But I'm afraid I'm ill equipt to recommend myself to such lush and lavish company as you might keep there."

"Nonsense. It's no more lavish than Malfoy Manor, and by my recollection, you fit in superbly there."

To Hermione's left, she heard Harry's cup clatter against the saucer, and she knew he was surprised. Her plan _was_ working. That would teach Harry to doubt her again. Trying to reign in her excitement, and not to draw attention to her friends' reactions, she kept her eyes off them, maintaining eye contact with Blaise.

"The gala was quite a success, don't you agree? Narcissa has been an incredibly kind and generous supporter."

"As has Draco, I hear. Quite generous indeed." His voice was lower now, and she could feel the underlying meaning of his word. This was it. Stage one complete. Now to move on to stage two.

"As have you." she smiled sweetly. "Shall we have a proper drink then, a toast to your selfless contribution to S.P.E.W. now and in the future?"

"I'll grab it!" Harry popped up, eager for any excuse to leave the room.

"Nonsense, Harry, _dear._ Allow Hermione and I to fetch the bottle."

Hermione smiled at her friend, levitating the tray and their cups at her side as they made their way into the kitchen. "You men have a chat while we tidy this all up and fetch your drinks."

In the kitchen, Ginny turned to face Hermione. "So, now we pour fire whiskey down his throat until he's good and sloshed, right? This is going to be great!"

"Not exactly" Hermione pulled the small vile from her robes, setting it on the table.

"What's that?"

"Never you mind that. Just, don't let Harry drink it, ok. You don't either."

"Merlin, are you going to poison him?!" Ginny gasped.

"No! He will remain perfectly unharmed."

"Then tell me what's in the vile." Hermione remained silent as she unstoppered the bottle of firewhiskey and poured the entire contents of the vile into it.

"No," she picked up the bottle and turned back toward the living room. "It's not exactly legal."

"Hermione Jane Granger!" Ginny moved to stand in front of her. "Should I pack us both bags?"

"Bags?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes, for our new lives on the run," Ginny grinned. "We will have to come up with new names and a wicked backstory. What do you want your name to be?"

Hermione smiled a real smile at her friend as she prattled on a list of names fit for any fugitive witch. She really did love her.

"Enough, Ginny!" She stopped her at the name Esmerelda.

"Yes, of course. Crime to commit and all." And with another laugh, they returned to the boys.

The room was completely silent as they entered, and Hermione ventured neither had spoken a word in their absence. She poured them each a glass, before raising her own up for a toast.

"To friends, finance, and a better future."

"Here here," Blaise raised his glass and threw it back in a single gulp. Hermione and Ginny both put the glass to their lips but didn't drink, and just as Ginny was getting ready to snatch Harry's glass from his hand, another noise at the window drew his attention away.

Three sets of eyes shot over to a large intimidating black owl. Blaise's face remained calm, still facing Hermione as she returned her eyes to his. This was _not_ a part of her plan.

Wordlessly, she stood and moved to the window, taking the letter from the owl's outstretched leg. It flew off immediately, and she eyed the familiar Malfoy seal. She flipped it over and was only slightly surprised when she read the address.

Blaise stood and met her. "It's for you," she said.

"Seems we are both in correspondence with a Malfoy today, _Hermione."_

Hermione returned to the sofa, meeting the wide questioning eyes of her friends with a shake of her head, telling them this was most definitely not expected.

Blaise read the note and then let out a loud laugh. Hermione wanted to know what it said. Needed to know. Fortunately, the serum should be in effect by now should Blaise not be forthcoming.

"Malfoy say something funny?"

"Hilarious, actually."

"Well then, do share it with the room then. I'm sure we would all appreciate a good laugh," Ginny added.

"Oh Red, I don't think that's wise. I shouldn't want to read it out loud in such beautiful and polite company." Blaise waived the letter in the air mockingly. Tauntingly. And Hermione knew she would have to get her answers by force.

"Blaise." She said firmly. "What does the letter say?"

"He's threatening to pummel me if I don't leave your flat in the next 5 minutes." His eyes shot open wide, confused and startled at the words that left his mouth.

"Why does he know you are here?"

"I left a note."

"You sent a note telling him you were coming here? Why?"

"No, I left it at the Manor. I'm staying with him while Mother is on holiday. I thought it would be a laugh to see his reaction."

"Bloody hell, Mione!" Harry exclaimed. "What did you do to Zabini?"

"Never mind that, Harry! Not now! I'll explain later." Harry moved to intercept Hermione, but Ginny held him back.

"Has Malfoy told you everything? About the two of us?" Blaise fought to keep his lips closed, but he could not keep quiet for long.

"Yes. Everything."

"Why did he leave in the middle of the night? After the gala? Tell me everything." Blaise's eyes flashed hot, warningly before the answer was ripped from his throat.

"He had to prepare for his birthday. He is now of proper age. As head of the family, he must marry by his 21st birthday. Arrangements had to be made."

"Married!?" Hermione felt her heart drop. "Malfoy is married?" She wasn't really asking, but the serum coursing through Blaise took is at one and forced a reply.

"No." Her eyes shot up.

"But, you said he had to. By his birthday. That was weeks ago."

Without a question directed to him, Blaise was finally able to speak of his own accord.

"You silly little witch! You put Veratasurem in the firewhiskey! Are you mad?"

Her face flushed, but she stood tall in front of him. "If you people ever told the truth, I wouldn't have had to go to such lengths to get answers!"

"Have you ever considered that there are some people who don't want their personal lives made public!? Just because most were on the wrong side of the war doesn't mean that's just cause for exposing every secret."

"W-well," Hermione faltered in her resolve for a moment. "Well this happens to involve me, so I have a right to know!"

"Stubborn! Just like him. You have no idea what's going on. No idea what you've done."

"WHAT I'VE DONE?!" She shouted.

"I'm not the one sneaking about and hiding the truth!"

"Aren't you though?" Blaise questioned. "Do they know everything?" He nodded his head to Harry and Ginny. At the look in their eyes as well and her own, Blaise had is an answer.

"I didn't think so. You bloody Gryffindors. You just don't get it. You've got no desire to understand what it was like for us. You can't imagine. One wrong expression. One wrong word can topple everything that you are and destroy everything you've worked to build. It was worse then when _he_ came back. But his death didn't change everything. Not for us. There's no escaping the past and Draco learned that faster and harder than anyone I know."

There was a loud banging at the front door, drawing everyone out of their reverie.

"Salazar save me," Blaise muttered.

"What?" Harry turned and asked.

"It's been more than 5 minutes."

"I don't understand," Hermione said, just before a shouted spell caused the wooden door to splinter and burst. Loud footsteps echoed through the flat, and everyone but Blaise drew their wands.

And that's when Draco Malfoy emerged.


	40. Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Draco Malfoy stood tall, his impressive form somehow filling the entire doorway. His face was flushed with anger, his jaw set in a sharp line. And his eyes, his eyes were black as midnight. Taking in the scene before him, he raised his wand at the only person not currently raising theirs on him, Blaise Zabini.

"I told you to leave," he spat. Blaise stood tall to face his friend.

"Easy Draco. I would have been gone by now if _someone_ hadn't spiked my firewhiskey.

Malfoy looked at the table in the center of the room and examined the 4 glasses, only one of them empty.

"Spiked with what?" His face was still severe.

"Veritaserum," Harry interjected, stepping forward.

Malfoy lowered his wand, and let out a bellowing humorless laugh. "Brilliant, Potter. 10 points to Gryffindor. Find any of the skeletons in my mate's closet?"

"I wasn't the one asking the questions."

Malfoy's eyes shot to Hermione and burned when he saw the look of shame on her face. He pocketed his wand, and the Gryffindors lowered their own.

"What did she ask you?" Although he spoke to Blaise, his gaze remained on Hermione, and she paled. Blaise growled before answering.

"She asked if I knew about you two, how you knew I was here, and why you left her alone that night." Malfoy's head snapped to his friend.

"How much did you tell her?"

"Not everything. Only what I had to." Malfoy exhaled a steady breath before stepping in close to Blaise.

"Are you still under the effects?"

Blaise's eyes shot up. "Yes."

"Let's just check to make sure, shall we?"

"Come on, Draco. No need to be cruel."

Malfoy smirked. "But how else will you learn your lesson?"

"I was just taking the piss out of ya, mate. Have a heart!"

"Who was your first shag?" Malfoy chuckled as he spoke, and the trio behind him looked on warily as Blaise again fought to keep quiet.

"Millicent Bulstrode!" He shouted out and everyone but Malfoy cringed. "Bloody awful night that was. Low blow, Draco. Low blow."

"Count yourself lucky I don't hex you mad, _mate._ You shouldn't have come here."

Hermione couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Excuse me! Why is the company Blaise keeps any concern of _yours,_ Malfoy."

Her heart jumped as the blonde turned to face her fully. His eyes again burning into her own. She saw his right eye twitch slightly, and trailed her gaze down to take in the rest of him.

Hands in his pockets. Arms flexed, shaking slightly from the effort of keeping them in place. Same as she had seen before; what she had incorrectly placed as rage. What she now knew to be the after-effects of the _cruciatus_ curse.

"They become my concern when _you_ are that company!"

What!? How dare he! She was certainly not his property and he had no right to lay claims to her time or her social calendar. Especially after what she had learned from Blaise.

Blaise! She still had unanswered questions. Malfoy was supposed to be married by his birthday, but Blaise said he wasn't. Why? What happened? And did she dare ask?

"BLAISE, WHY DIDN'T MALFOY MARRY?" She shouted before she lost her nerve. Everyone in the room gasped as two sets of Slytherin eyes bore into her.

Blaise was biting his bottom lip, so hard it began to bleed, and his body shook.

"Don't," Malfoy spoke, quiet as he shut his eyes, dreading the inevitable.

"Because he's stubborn!"

Malfoy's eyes opened again, and a look of relief washed over him. Clearly, he had expected a different answer. Not satisfied, Hermione opened her mouth to ask for more specifics, but before she could Malfoy drew his wand, aiming it at his former housemate.

"Sorry. _Stupefy!"_ A red light shot from the top of his wand, and Blaise fell to the floor unconscious.

"What did you do that for?" Ginny rushed to check on the wizard before glaring up at Malfoy.

"What did YOU lot do THIS for?" He grit out.

"We didn't know about the veritaserum."

Malfoy turned on his heel and walked to the table. He picked up one of the full glasses and brought it up to his eyes.

"Someone's been quite naughty. Tell me, Granger, did you brew it yourself? You're brilliant enough to have. Or did you nick it from the Ministry?"

"I'm not telling _you!"_

"Shall I guess then?"

"Knock yourself out." Hermione crossed her arms, wand still in hand as Malfoy began to pace around her with the glass of spiked firewhiskey.

"I'll guess right." Hermione wasn't sure why, but she couldn't stop herself from giving into his taunts.

"You think you're so clever. You overestimate yourself."

"Care to make a wager then?" He leaned in as he circled her again, and she tried to ignore the smell of him as it invaded her senses.

"Terms?"

"A kiss."

"Just a kiss?"

"Just a kiss on the lips."

"And when you get it wrong?" The corner of his mouth curled up as he looked her in the eye. Then he leaned forward and whispered into her ear.

"Then I'll drink this whole glass." He nuzzled her neck gently. "And allow you 3 questions before I leave." He pulled away, his still dark eyes taking in her expression.

"Swear it." She said. "Swear that if you guess wrong, you will be true to your word."

"I swear it."

The two stood still for a moment, staring into each other's eyes as Harry and Ginny looked on.

"Gin, maybe. I mean, should we go?" Harry whispered to his witch.

"Should we? Yes. Are we? Definitely not!" He shook his head as his fiery red-head smiled brightly up at him.

"He's going to get it right, you know?"

"Oh, I doubt it."

"Wager?" he asked.

"Wager!"

Harry reached his hand down and lifted Ginny up from her position at Blaise's side. Interlocking his fingers with hers, he led her back over to the sofa and they sat down with a plop. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he couldn't help but laugh when, with a wave of her wand, Ginny again produced a small bag of popcorn and began munching on it happily.

Hermione had a 50/50 chance. And if she lost, she only had to kiss him. It was just a kiss, and it wasn't as if she hadn't kissed him before. It was more than worth it for the chance.

"Deal," she said. And she stuck out her hand to shake his.

Malfoy's face lit up at her agreement, and he began to walk around her once more. Talking as he moved.

"You see, it all comes down to one question. Do you know what that question is?" Hermione shook her head. "How long have you been planning this?"

Ginny looked over at Harry. Bollocks.

"While you've got the brains to, you would never brew veritaserum without an express purpose. And you would never steal, especially from the Ministry, unless you had no other option. For example, you hadn't the time to brew it yourself."

Oh no, she thought. Her hopes of winning this little bet of theirs began to fade away.

"It takes nearly a month to brew the potion. So, back to the question. How long have you planned this?" He sloshed the amber liquid around in its glass, watching it swirl as he continued his orbit around the bushy-haired witch.

"And that is easy enough to determine."

"How?!" Ginny blurted out.

"By the nature of the questions, she asked Blaise, of course." When he was once again at her back, he paused, turning to look down on her from behind. He wasn't touching her, but she could feel his body behind hers, that familiar pull emitting from her belly at his proximity.

"You asked no question regarding anything that occurred over a month ago. Your questions gave you away." Hermione sucked in a breath. "You nicked it from the Ministry, didn't you?"

He reached out a hand and moved her curls away from one shoulder, and she could feel his breath, hot on her neck.

"Yes." She answered. "I'm going to replace it."

"Of course you are," he purred.

In front of her, Ginny rolled her eyes as Harry grinned at his victory. "You owe me a galleon," he singsonged in her ear.

She could feel him moving behind her, before spinning her around and placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

The instant she felt his lips on hers, she wanted more. She couldn't help herself, so she parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. But when he did, she saw her mistake.

He opened his mouth to hers and she tasted firewhiskey on his tongue and choked as the tainted liquid dripped down her throat, burning as it went.

She pulled away with a cough, attempting to catch her breath. And when she did, she smacked Malfoy square on the chest!

"You no good two faced little cockroach! You tricked me!"

"Like you tricked Blaise?"

"That's different."

"You Gryffindors. You preach of your honor and morality. Your firm grasps on right over wrong, but the moment you can bend the rules to your benefit," he leaned forward, almost resting his forehead against her own as her blood began to boil. "You're just the same as the rest of us."

She took a large step back, turning to again face her friends who looked on confused.

"You wanted the truth to be out there, Granger. Wanted to play with the snakes? Well, let's play." He gripped her arm and pulled her back to face his chest.

"Is the serum working yet?"

She tried to pull away but found she couldn't, and her answer sounded without her permission. "Yes."

"Good," he hummed. To her surprise, he left her side, walking to take a seat in a chair next to the sofa. He smiled cheekily at the couple to his right.

"Careful, Malfoy," Harry warned. Malfoy looked deep into Harry's eyes.

"Look at me, Potter. I won't hurt her." Harry looked back into his eyes, once again a steely grey, and Merlin help him, he believed the bloke.

"OK."

"Harry!" Ginny objected, but he quieted her with a sweet kiss. It's time these two sorted out," he paused, "whatever it is that's been going on. And if you don't mind, I _really_ don't want to hear the details."

Ginny looked over at Hermione, tears beginning to prick at the corners of the brunette's eyes. "You alright, Mione?"

Truth be told, she preferred her friends not to be there as well. She thought about running. About apparating far away so she wouldn't be faced with whatever truths Malfoy sought. To keep them hidden from him as well as herself. She would face them later. At a more convenient time. But then, when would it _ever_ be convenient.

"I'm fine, Gin." She smiled weakly.

"Ok then." She and Harry stood and walked to the hallway, but not before turning to face the blonde. "We will just be in my bedroom. I'll be here in a flash if you need us, Mione."

Malfoy simply looked directly back at the red-head. His face still calm and unafraid. He waited until he heard the click of the bedroom door to return his attention to Hermione.

"That was a dirty trick Malfoy," she spoke.

"Perhaps. But you started this game, Hermione." Her skin tingled and her heart raced at the use of her first name. He looked over his shoulder to the heap on the floor. "Blaise isn't the only one who needs to be taught a lesson."

"And what lesson, pray tell, is that?" She scoffed.

"Never mess with a Malfoy." He grinned back to her and she rolled her eyes before moving to take a seat at the chair in front of him.

"Whatever. Let's get this over with so you can get out of my flat and back to your soon-to-be Pureblood wife." She didn't try to hide the bitterness in her voice and staring down at the table between them, she missed the flash in his eyes at her words.

"What do you care if I do?"

"Pardon?" She looked up.

"What do you care if I do have a Pureblood witch to return to."

Hermione felt the serum compelling her to speak her mind, but she made every effort to keep enough control to answer only enough to satisfy as the truth.

"I don't like unfaithful men."

"And who would I have been unfaithful to?" She _wanted_ to say her, but technically, that wasn't the truth. She was not in a relationship with Malfoy, so she was relieved at her reply.

"Your fiancé."

"I see." His grin evaporated, replaced with the familiar mask, and she knew he was not happy with her answer.

"Why did you invite Blaise to tea today?"

"So I could ask him questions about you."

"Why not ask me yourself?"

"I did. You avoided them."

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

Hermione grit her teeth, but it was no use. She had to reply. "I needed to know what you were keeping from me. Why you stayed away after the gala." Her mouth snapped shut, having satisfied the question.

"Do you fancy Blaise?"

"No!" She spoke without being forced. Her face was hot with frustration and embarrassment. How much more would he ask her?

"How do you feel about my...condition?" Her jaw dropped at this question and she forgot to filter her answer. Words came pouring out of her mouth.

"I hate that it happened to you because it's just one more struggle you have to face. I don't care that you are the way that you are now, but you care, and you carry such a burden upon yourself as it is, what between being a deatheater, a Malfoy, and the effects of the cruciatus curse." Malfoy's eyes opened wide as she continued. "And add all these new Lupin traits to the mix, that's a lot for any one person to-"

"Stop!" He leaned forward. "How do you know about that?"

"About what?"

"The curse echoes."

Curse echoes? She thought. She wouldn't have thought to phrase the lingering effects in such a way, but she guessed it made sense. "Harry told me."

"Of course he did." He ran a hand through his platinum locks.

"Malfoy, please." He looked on as she spoke. "No more, alright?"

"Just one more." She nodded her head. Just one more. One more then he would leave and she could have herself a proper cry at her failure.

He stood, walking to the back of her chair and leaned in behind her, breathing her in once more.

"How do you feel, right now? When I'm so close to you, yet just out of reach? How does it make you feel when I'm near you? Just _before_ I touch you."

His voice was deep and smooth, and she closed her eyes, allowing her mind to process all the sensations he emboldened within her.

"I feel like I'm on fire, burning from the inside out. And you're the one who struck the match. Your smell makes me dizzy and my head goes all fuzzy. I can't think straight. I forget things. Like why we are here and what I'm supposed to say."

She heard a low growl behind her, and she sighed as the noise echoed in her ears.

"And when you make those noises, all I want is for you to touch me. To take me. I don't feel like myself around you. It's like there's this string attached somewhere in the pit of my stomach that keeps trying to pull me to you."

He reached around her, and roughly took her breast in the palm of his hand, kneading it his mouth moved to the shell of her ear, and she felt his lips against her skin as he whispered. "And when I touch you."

"It's like I've never been touched before."

Malfoy latched onto her neck, his teeth raking across her flesh until he tasted blood. She screamed, and both Harry and Ginny came rushing into the room.

_"Incarcerous!"_ Harry shouted. And ropes shot out and wrapped tightly around Malfoy, causing him to fall to the floor.

Ginny ran and pulled Hermione out of the chair and across the room before her eyes landed on her neck.

"What have you done to her you ferret!? She's bleeding! You promised you wouldn't hurt her!"

Malfoy looked up, as intimidating as one could be while ensnared in ropes. His eyes were dark and deep, and his voice gravelly as he spoke.

"I bit her, but she's not hurt. Now buggar off, Weaslette. Go shag the chosen one and leave me to manage my own affairs!"

Harry levitated Malfoy and sent him flying across the room to land by Blaise, who was just now beginning to stir.

"This is enough, Malfoy. Whatever stupid game you are playing at ends now. You leave Mione alone. You hear me? From now on, you don't so much as utter her name or so help me, I will end the Malfoy name forever."

Malfoy scoffed at this. "I couldn't care less If the Malfoy line ends with me, regardless what my father says about it."

Hermione finally regained her bearings and pulled away from Ginny. "Then why all this rubbish with Pureblood traditions?!" She had finally reached her breaking point.

"Why pick out a perfectly pure little wife with your mother? Why did you leave me alone, in the middle of the night, as if I'm nothing, so you could go plan out the future daddy dearest expects from you?!" Tears fell down her face as she shouted at the blonde.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he spoke through clenched teeth.

"Then enlighten me. Please. Tell me one thing that's true. And let it be the _entire_ truth."

"I didn't get married, you stubborn witch! I couldn't go through with it. But I still had to leave. Because my mother was waiting. And I didn't tell you where I went because I could not tell you _all_ of it. The world is not as black and white as you believe. And yes, I am flawed. My life is messy and dark. You lot will never understand. You will always be suspicious. Always suspect me of malicious intent at every turn. The war sent me to a truly dark place. And because of that, you will never see."

"See what?" It was Ginny who asked the question.

"I only ever wanted to be happy."

The three friends stood transfixed. All shocked at the truth in his words.

Truth.

That's when Hermione realized Malfoy had answered every question directed to him. Honestly.

That's when she remembered, one doesn't have to _drink_ veritaserum for it to take effect, a few drops need only touch your tongue.


	41. By Birth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Blaise awoke and slowly looked around the room.

Malfoy was on the floor to his left, bound, while the three Gryffindors stood huddled together, varying expressions on each of their faces as they looked down at the blonde. "I hadn't realized it would be _that_ sort of party, mate. If I had known Gryffindors were into the BDSM scene I would have visited that tower of theirs more frequently during school." The blonde snapped his head to meet Blaise's eyes and growled. The dark-skin wizard ignored him, dusting off his clothes as he stood. "You know, he can get out of those ropes if he tried, right?"

Three sets of eyes looked to him questioningly.

"Trust me. Or better yet, ask me. I must tell the truth after all."

"Only if you're still under the serum's effects," Ginny retorted. "And we don't know you are."

Hermione stepped forward, evading Harry's hand as it shot out in an attempt to keep her at his side. Once she joined Blaise she looked down to Malfoy, her heart racing as she spoke.

"No, but Malfoy is."

"What!?" Blaise, Harry, and Ginny all spoke at once. Malfoy only smirked.

"Took you long enough to work that one out, Granger." Hermione's face flushed. His eyes were sparkling, and she wondered what emotion that was. For someone who made such an effort to shield his emotions from the world, he had a very expressive face. And never had she known someone who's eyes shifted and changed as his did.

"Can you free yourself?"

"Of course."

"Why haven't you?"

He shrugged, as much as he could in his current situation. "Seemed prudent to allow you three a sense of security and power. Not that Potter is much of a threat, but I've seen Weaslette when she's mad, and I'd rather not find myself on the end of her wand." Seemed a reasonable enough answer. If he had freed himself, Harry and Ginny would have seen it as an attack and gone after him with everything they had.

"Harry, release him."

"But Mione-"

"Harry! Just do it!" She shouted, and her friend complied, lifting the spell. Malfoy stood, stretching his arms and neck before facing Hermione. He was close again. Too close. Why did he always do that?

"You have to tell the truth." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"So do you," Malfoy replied.

"What happened while I was unconscious?" Blaise interrupted.

Both Hermione and Malfoy assumed the question was directed at them, the serum compelling them to tell the truth. But they spoke at once, making their words indecipherable.

"OK, stop." Blaise shook his head. "Whatever it is, I don't think I want to know. I've got a splitting headache." He turned to Malfoy. "Thanks for that, mate."

"Any time." Both the wizards grinned. Hermione had to admit, theirs was an odd sort of friendship. She had once asked Malfoy if he was even capable of having a friend rather than a lacky. She could see now that he was, just, not in the same sense she was familiar with.

"I'll just be off then." Blaise made his way across the room, pausing when he reached Harry and Ginny. "Fancy a pint? I dare say we all deserve one."

"We aren't leaving Hermione," Ginny replied. "Not as long as _he_ is here!"

Blaise chuckled as he walked away, muttering something about _'bloody Gryffindors'_ as he went. The door clicked shut behind him, and the couple returned their attention to the pair in front of them, standing tall and silent as they stared at each other.

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So, which one of you is going to clue us in on whatever it is we clearly missed?" It was Hermione who spoke.

"Malfoy didn't just dose me with the veritaserum, he dosed himself. I was so taken aback that it didn't register until a moment ago."

"Why would he do that and risk having to speak the truth himself?"

"It was a calculated risk, I assume. He didn't believe we would realize it ourselves, and as long as he was willing to offer small truths to anything we directed to him, he was able to control his responses enough to sound natural rather than forced. Right?" She turned to Malfoy.

"Yes, and well worth the risk," he purred.

"So, right now, both of you have no choice but to be truthful?" Harry clarified.

"Yes, Potter." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You always were a tad slow."

"He still managed to best you all through school though, didn't he?"

Malfoy glared at Ginny as she stood by her fiancé's side, her arm wrapped firmly in his. He grit out a reply. It was a question after all. "Yes."

"Merlin! He really is dosed, isn't he?" she looked to Hermione for verification.

"How did it feel, Malfoy? To constantly be bested by those you deemed inferior to yourself?"

"Ginny please-" Hermione tried to interrupt, tried to stop her friend. She knew Ginny was upset. Upset because she thought Malfoy had hurt her. And hell hath no fury like a Weasley scorned. But it was no use. Malfoy began to speak, his own anger growing with each compelled word.

"I hated you all. You lot think Slytherin's are sneaks and cheats? What about you!? Prancing about the castle, doing whatever you like. Polyjuice potion, Illegal maps, time-turners, and Merlin knows what else! And were you ever punished? Of course not! Not Dumbledore's precious Golden Trio. I may be a bully, yes, but do you honestly believe I sat in the dungeons every night scheming against you?" He waited for them to say something, anything. But when they did not, he continued.

"I worked my ass off. Did you know? Did you ever even think about it? I studied, I revised _just_ as much as Granger, but I could never beat her; was never first in class. Just like I could never beat Potter in Quidditch. Perfect Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. He could do no wrong. Sure, Potter's a skilled seeker, but it wasn't fair!"

"Fair?"

"No! First years weren't allowed to play Quidditch. But the rules never applied to Potter. He didn't even have to try out! McGonnagall snapped her wrinkly old fingers, and that was that. The youngest seeker in a century. I would never have ever been considered to play as a first year, regardless how I played or behaved. And all the while, it was you Gryffindors who were sneaking around and breaking all the rules. Yet, when there's mention of evil afoot, you all assumed I was at the heart of it? Assumed _I_ was the heir of Slytherin. That's one title I _could not_ boast to."

All three Gryffindors stood still, eyes wide at the passion, the anger, the hurt in Malfoy's words.

"But they couldn't completely ignore my marks, could they? They _had_ to appoint me as Prefect. But then, they go and name that ginger oaf prefect as well?! What marks did Weasley ever achieve that weren't the direct result of dumb luck or _Granger_ correcting his assignments?"

Harry looked at the once proud wizard in front of him. While getting to know the Malfoy heir after the war, he had often wondered what it was like for him in school. What it was _really_ like. And while he had learned much of his physical pains and burdens he carried, the two had never spoken of things such as this. It was always the trials and tribulations of war, never of those smaller things important to children in their youth. Hearing these things, things he had valued so much himself, he felt he understood Malfoy much better than he had ever dreamed he would.

"You all probably wonder how I could do it. How I could take the mark and do the horrible things I've done. See what I've seen. You can never understand the desire to be a part of something such as that. You had the power and prestige I had been promised my entire life but was always just out of reach. For once, it was _I_ who was chosen. _I_ was the important one; the one who held the fate of the war in _my_ hands. You always had each other. Who did I have?"

Malfoy was no longer speaking the truth because he had to. He was yelling and shouting the truth because he needed to. Because he needed _someone_ else to hear the words. To understand why he walked this path.

"And I know what people say _. His father's son. Ignorant Pureblood. Deatheater scum. Evil._ But you lot gave me no other option."

"Malfoy," Harry began. "Not everyone still views you that way. And you did have a choice. You wanted to be good. I saw you that night on the tower. Dumbledore offered you protection, and you would have taken it. That's why I testified on your behalf. Why I saved you during the battle."

"Ever the bleeding heart, Potter. That was no choice. He was dead already, and he knew it. Without him, I would never have been accepted by your precious Order and you know it. And as for the saving me bit, fat lot of luck that has been; settling me with a life debt it seems I will never be able to repay. You're a part of the other group. The people who look upon me with pity rather than disgust. _He was only a boy. He didn't know what he was doing. Never had a chance._ I've heard it all before, just as annoying and just as WRONG as the others."

"How is that wrong?"

"I knew what I was doing. I believed in our superiority and I embraced the hatred as I was taught. I had choices, simply not the ones you tell yourselves I had in order to maintain your dainty sensibilities. I _chose_ my own path in the darkness. I _chose_ to bury the thoughts and emotions that made me weak. That conflicted with my actions. I became what the Dark Lord wanted me to be. And I survived. My mother survived."

"But you were a deatheatter!" Ginny shouted, face red.

"WHEN I WAS 16!" He yelled back at her. "But in everyone else's eyes, I might as well have been marked from birth." Malfoy had begun rubbing his left forearm where all three now knew the dark mark to be, an unconscious action as he spoke of his stolen youth.

They were alike in that way. All of them forced to grow up before they should have. Because of a war they never wanted because of who they were born. Both things they had no control of, but were bound to, none the less.

A Pureblood.

A Weasley.

A Muggle-Born.

A Boy Who Lived.


	42. Fight or Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an over-active imagination

Hermione didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. She felt as if she had forgotten how to breathe. Her head buzzed, making her dizzy. Her heart banged in her chest as Malfoy's words permeated her brain. All that sadness. All that anger. How did they miss that during school? How did she?

She was meant to be the clever one, but she supposed she had been caught up with her own troubles. That was allowed, right? After all, they had been just children. It wasn't as if they had ever been friendly. Why should she have felt empathy for one of her childhood tormentors? He had been an arrogant and cold-hearted child. Or had he?

And what now? Where did they go from here? How could they begin to mend that which had been broken for so very long?

She heaved in a shuttered breath and had to grip the back of the nearby chair to keep her knees from giving out. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. It shouldn't have happened this way. She simply meant to get her answers from Blaise, Malfoy being none the wiser. Instead, because of her actions, she had torn open a wound. A wound she wasn't sure could ever be mended.

Ginny was still glaring daggers at Malfoy as the blonde began to pace.

"I think we all could use a break, eh Malfoy?" Hermione looked to Harry and was thankful for his kind heart. He would stand up and defend his friends to the ends of the earth, but mostly, he wanted peace.

"How about we pop around the corner and pick up a bite to eat? Cool off. Give you and Mione some time for the serum to get out of your systems."

"If you want me gone, just say so, Potter." No one spit out Harry's last name as Malfoy could; as if the taste of the word on is tongue were poison.

"No, it's just getting a bit late. I think some food would do us good. I'll even let you pay." Harry shot Malfoy a sly look, and Hermione watched as the hard lines on Malfoy's face diminished. For a moment, it almost looked as if he would smile.

"Expect nothing less from a pauper such as yourself." Harry moved to Malfoy's side, clapping an arm across his back before the two made their way down the hall and exited the flat.

The moment she heard the door shut, Hermione collapsed into the chair, her head coming to rest in her hands.

"I don't trust him, Mione." Ginny was at her side, stroking her hair. "There is so much anger inside him. He's likely to destroy anything he touches, including you." Hermione knew Ginny was only trying to help, but she felt her own anger rise up at her words.

"Wouldn't you be angry too?!" The red-head jerked her hand back at the harshness of her friend's tone.

"You had no right to ask him what you did, Gin! NO RIGHT!"

" _I_ had no right!? _Me?_ You're the one who orchestrated this entire fiasco! What right did _you_ have to interrogate Blaise? I love you, Mione, and I'll always be here for you, but you are out of control! Stealing from the Ministry? You could get in serious trouble, maybe even Azkaban. Did you realize that? And all for what?"

Her eyes teared up as she felt the veritaserum speak her mind. "Of course, I realized that! But I didn't care, I still don't. You wouldn't understand! I _need_ him, Ginny. I don't know how or since when, but I need Draco. It feels as if our souls are intertwined whenever I'm around him. As if I'd leap from Gryffindor Tower if it meant I could keep him."

It was a wonderful and terrifying feeling, speaking the words she had desperately avoided all these months. In many ways, it reminded her of her feelings toward the man himself; treacherous, baffling, and profound.

"But I don't even _know_ him. Not really. No one does. How can that be? I just…." her voice was shaking, "I thought that if I knew what he was up to, knew what he was hiding, maybe I might understand my feelings for him. Or have a reason to ignore them."

Ginny squeezed into the chair next to Hermione, wrapping her arms around the brunette's shaking form.

"People aren't like your books, Hermione. You can't simply open them up and discover their secrets whenever you like."

"I've really made a mess of things, haven't I?"

"I hate to say I told you so, but-"

"Ginny, you LOVE to say I told you so." Both girls giggled.

"Ok, fine. I told you so!"

"Disaster."

"It really was. Far more so than even I imagined though."

"What do I do now? How do I fix this? How do I find out what this _thing_ between Malfoy and I is?"

"Ok." Gin sat up, turning Hermione's head so they were face to face on the small chair, a stern expression on her face. "This may be a little out there, but hear me out, ok?"

Hermione's eyes widened, eagerly awaiting this grand idea of Ginny's.

"There's this thing, I am told, people will do from time to time when they have feelings for someone. It's called…." Ginny looked around the room conspiratorially, as if to ensure no one was lurking about, "dating."

A laugh exploded from Hermione's chest. That hadn't been what she was expecting. "A date?" Ginny's face remained serious. "You want me to ask Draco Malfoy on a date?"

"Why not?"

"Why that's…. that's just…."

Hermione allowed her eyes to close as she thought about it. Would she even be able to make it through a date with Malfoy? What would they talk about? It had been hard enough managing a conversation with him over food at his office. Wait, had that been a date? No. Would he even want to go on a date with her? After all of this?

"What if he says no?"

"Then maybe, that's the answer."

"But it wouldn't explain-"

"Maybe the answer you NEED isn't the one you've been trying to find." Hermione let her words sink in. The buzzing in her head had faded, and she found it replaced with a heavy feeling throughout her body.

"You know, Gin. You're pretty good at this."

"I know."

It was over an hour before Hermione heard the sound of her door opening and closing, and the rustling of a take away bag. Finally, she was starving. She had thought on what Ginny said and agreed to ask Malfoy out. And she would do it today, now, before she lost her nerve.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and she felt her heart race. Ginny sensed her nerves and reached out to squeeze her hand tight. Harry turned the corner, a boyish grin on his face as he held up the bag.

"Chinese anyone?" Ginny rushed forward, snatching the bag from Harry's hands and rummaged through it.

"Took you long enough, Potter."

"Easy now, Weasley. That food is meant to feed us all, not just you." He chuckled as Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and began devouring a container of lo mein. He looked over to Hermione, who was still looking anxiously toward the hallway.

"He's not coming, Mione. Thought it best to give us all some space. Still paid for the food though." Hermione smiled weakly. He didn't want to see her. He must be furious. "It's not because of you. Not really. If you're going to blame someone, blame Ginny here."

"Hey!" Ginny objected, mouth full of noodles.

"Careful, love. You're eating a bit like Ron." Ginny cut her eyes at the wizard, before tucking back into her meal.

"Just, give him some time, Mione. Remember, Malfoy's not used to allowing people to see him in such an intimate, way. He never meant for any of us to learn those things."

"Utterly too predictable and boring for your tastes?"

"No."

"Then why not?"

"You just said you don't trust him."

"I don't. But I trust you. And I want you to be happy. You should get your answers, just try it the old-fashioned way. No games or potions."

"Ask Draco Malfoy on a date?" Ginny smiled, again wrapping her on her arms.

"Then he shouldn't have dosed himself, or Hermione for that matter."

"He said it was worth the risk." Hermione thought out loud. "I wonder what he meant by that."

Harry cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "I suppose that depends on what you told him."

"Pardon?"

"Whatever it was he asked you about while Gin and I were out of the room. I reckon that hearing your answers were worth whatever truths he had to tell."

Hermione shot up straight. "Harry! You're brilliant!" Harry blushed brilliant as Hermione lunged forward and planted a huge kiss on his cheek. "Absolutely brilliant!"

"Uh, thanks?"

Hermione moved and grabbed the bag of food at Ginny's side, rummaging through until she found two containers that looked especially appealing.

"What are you up to?" Ginny asked, as Hermione bounced across the room, grabbing her wand and throwing a jumper on over her head.

"I'm off to take your advice, Gin." Two sets of eyes looked at her questioningly. "I'm off to ask Malfoy on a date."

 

* * *

 

Hermione stood in the drive, take away containers in hand, and looked up at the dreary Wiltshire sky. She had to apparate outside the Manor's wards, and it wasn't until she arrived, that she questioned if they would allow her entry at all. Slowly, she stepped toward the large wrought-iron gates nestled between the massive curving hedges. When she was a mere inches away, she closed her eyes, and was reminded of her first time walking through the passage and Platform 9 . When she met no resistance, she opened her eyes and released a heavy breath.

She was allowed entrance, without so much as a question or a metal gate in her face. She must have been given express permission to enter the grounds, and she wondered which Malfoy had done so.

She walked for nearly 5 minutes, before through the fog, the handsome house came into view. It was breathtaking, despite the atrocities that had occurred there, and Hermione let her mind wander on what it must have been like to grow up in such a grand and lavish home.

She passed a massive fountain and allowed herself to pause for a moment to dip her fingers into the look clear water. Sitting on the fountain's edge, she looked around her. Lush gardens, peacocks, and the sounds of life all around her. It was easy to pretend nothing horrific had ever happened here; as if the darkest wizard of all time hadn't resided here, as if people hadn't died here, as if she hadn't been tortured here.

Her hand moved to her neck, rubbing the scar that would never heal in an unconscious motion, much the way Malfoy had done with his dark mark only hours ago in her home. The irony of the situation was lost to her, though, as she stared out into the distance, unaware of the figure and the pale eyes that looked down on her from an upstairs window.

Perhaps she shouldn't have come here. She was acting on a hunch anyway. Pure conjecture regarding his feelings toward her. But Harry had made a valid point. Malfoy had been willing to expose himself in order to ask her those questions. That meant they were important to him. That _her_ feelings toward _him_ were important to him. No, she was doing the right thing.

Shaking herself out of her daze, she picked the food back up, and walked the rest of the way to the Manor's doors. They opened to her immediately, and she stepped through cautiously, looking for the person or creature who might have opened them. But there was no one, and she again wondered what permissions she had to the Malfoy home. A melodious voice echoed through the entranceway as if answering her unasked question.

"You needn't have walked all that way, dear. You have full access to the floo and may apparate directly to the grounds if you like."

Hermione spun around and watched as Narcissa Malfoy exited the drawing room and made her way to greet her. She embraced her warmly, albeit somewhat awkwardly as Hermione's hands were full.

"Narcissa. I'm sorry for coming by without notice, it's just. I'm just." She wasn't sure how much or how little she should share with the Malfoy matriarch, but Narcissa seemed to know it already.

"Here to see my son, or course." She smiled a beautiful smile that seemed to warm the room.

"Yes."

"I've let him know you've arrived. He will be down shortly. Come, come sit down. We will wait for him together."

Arm in arm, they made their way down the narrow hallway, their steps muffled by the ornate carpets lining the floor. She was reminded of her first visit here with Narcissa, and she wondered if they might be heading toward the same sitting room. She loved that room. But, as they made their way through the drawing room, and into another, through the twists and turns of the never-ending corridors, she was sure they would not be returning to that room.

Her breath hitched as they came to a stop in front of a familiar set of large wooden doors. Narcissa reached out, turning the brass knobs and opened the doors wide. "I thought this may be the best room for us to wait in. I'd venture it's your favorite you've seen so far?"

Hermione stepped into the library and immediately felt at home, just as the last time she had been here. "Yes, thank you. It is my favorite."

Narcissa led them to the sofas in front of the fireplace. Once they were seated, Hermione saw Narcissa eyeing the Styrofoam containers in her lap suspiciously.

"Take away." She said, but that only seemed to confuse the elder witch further. "It's from a muggle restaurant. Malfoy bought it for Harry, Ginny, and me, but didn't stay to eat himself. I…. thought he might still be hungry?"

Narcissa's face softened, her eyes sparkling as her lips morphed into a smirk. "How _thoughtful_ ," she said, but even Hermione knew there was more to her words than what she was saying. Before she could respond, Narcissa's attention was drawn away from Hermione, focusing on something behind her, and she knew Malfoy had entered the room.

"Draco, dear. Hermione has just informed me you ran off without eating a proper meal. You really must take care of yourself. A young man mustn't skip his meals. So good that you have a _friend_ such as Hermione here to look after you when I'm not around."

Conversing with Slytherins was like hearing a new language. And while she was in no way fluent, she knew enough to recognize her words had a much different meaning to her and her son.

She turned in her seat and almost gasped out loud when she saw him. He was no longer wearing the modest slacks and button-up she had last seen him in, but perfectly tailored robes that accentuated his trim, but muscular form. Dressed entirely in black, except for a crimson red tie, the sight of him made her heart race. His white-blonde hair seemed to glow, every hair in its proper place around his pale face.

He stopped a few feet away, bowing low in greeting, and she wondered if she should stand, or courtesy, or simply go ahead and throw herself at his feet. Choosing the chair across from her, he sat with practiced poise, resting his arms on the chair rails. That's when she noticed. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled a quarter of the way up, allowing the burned head of the serpent to peek out from underneath.

Malfoy followed the path her eyes had traveled, knowing she had seen it, and leveled her with a challenging look. His mother had seen it as well and gasped.

"Draco! Please." Her voice was half shout and half whisper. "Not in front of company!"

"She's seen it before, Mother." His eyes remained trained on Hermione as he spoke. The cold tone of his voice reminiscent of his fathers. It made Hermione shutter. Narcissa wore a horrified expression on her face, and Hermione, glimpsing it from the corner of her eye, reached a comforting hand out to cover hers.

He was doing it again, trying to intimidate her. Trying to push her away with coldness, his mask of indifference. He had shared too much of himself earlier and was attempting to retreat back to the safety of her condemnation. She had been a fool before, falling for it every time. Her brashness and her pride taking over, but not this time. She would not fight, and she would not flee. They were no longer children. It was time they faced the monsters under their beds and told them to buggar off!

He was wounded, yes. But so was she.

"It's quite alright, Narcissa." Her eyes traveled back to Malfoy's as she gripped the elder witch's hand firmly. "We all have our scars."


	43. What Do You Want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination

Narcissa squeezed Hermione's hand before standing. "I will leave you two to your," she paused, "takeaway." A small grin appeared on her face, proud to use the newly discovered muggle word.

Hermione suppressed a laugh. Who would have thought Narcissa Malfoy would ever be proud of using muggle terminology? But despite the humor, she found in the situation, she fixed Narcissa with an approving grin, and the matriarch beamed.

She nodded to both of them, and then elegantly strode across the room toward the large doors. Hermione had watched her as she moved, and once she was out of sight, she looked at Malfoy. His eyes bore into her own, and held the same challenge; the dark mark still partially visible on his arm.

"Why did you come here, Granger?"

"I wanted to apologize."

He smirked. "Go ahead." _Git_ , she thought.

With a sigh, she began. "I'm sorry for the mess I've made. I should not have attempted to pry into your personal life. It was wrong of me to do so." He didn't speak. "Are we..." she paused. "Are we OK?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she awaited his response. She could feel him examining every inch of her face, scrutinizing her expression, and she hoped he could see her apology was sincere.

"Apology accepted." She sighed with relief. "Is that all?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she knew he sensed it was not.

"I. Well, I wanted to ask you something as well." This was slightly embarrassing, now that she was in the moment. She had never asked someone out before, and she suddenly felt sorry for every poor boy who had ever approached a girl he fancied.

"More questions?" Malfoy's face hardened. He must believe she wanted to continue the interrogation he had fled from earlier.

"Just one." She was chewing on her lip so fervently now she was sure she would taste blood soon. "Would you like to have dinner with me?" Her heart was racing again.

"Well, you did bring it all this way." His expression had softened, but she could not tell if he had understood her meaning.

"I don't mean that we simply share a meal. I mean," the words felt stuck and she was beginning to panic.

He leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"A date!" She practically shouted at him, and her face instantly flushed.

"A date?" He replied. His eyes began to sparkle with mirth and a sly grin spread across his face. He was not going to make this easy on her. But she was a Gryffindor. She was brave. She would not shy away this time.

Hermione adopted a business-like demeanor. The tone of her voice changing, and this seemed to amuse Malfoy further.

"Yes. I propose that we consider this an official date. While it may not be the way you usually date that doesn't mean this can't be one."

"And what do you know of the way I _usually_ date?"

"I-I don't know anything about it, actually." She stammered. But he reached forward and took one of the containers in his hands cautiously. He opened it, glancing at its contents before picking up a plastic fork. She watched him as he stabbed a dumpling with a bit too much force before plopping it into his mouth.

He chewed thoughtfully as if the food itself would determine his answer. He swallowed, then met her gaze.

"By all means, Granger, tuck in. I don't image you are one of those witches who refuse to eat on a _date."_

Date. She exhaled slowly. He called it a date. She supposed that was as much of an acceptance as she would receive. "You're right. I always thought it silly," she picked up the remaining container, placing it on her lap as carefully as possible so as not to spill sauce on her."

"What?" He asked. Hermione looked back up into his pale eyes. They were kind and thoughtful, and that put her at ease.

"When women act as if they have no appetite around men. As if we are never as hungry. We need to eat just as much as anyone else. Why pretend otherwise?"

Malfoy placed another dumpling into his mouth. A bit of juice escaped the pouch and dripped down his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to catch it, and she found herself entranced by the motion.

"I agree. Although, I supposed everyone tries to act as if they are something they aren't on a date." She tilted her head slightly. "That is if the two don't already know each other. And I feel it safe to say that is not the case with us."

She blushed.

"No. I believe we can safely say that is not the case." She smiled timidly. Malfoy returned her smile and the two began to quietly enjoy their date.

 

* * *

 

"What do you _mean_ you don't see the point in the curriculum!?" Hermione exclaimed. "Muggle studies is a vital part of Hogwarts! Just because many witches and wizards choose to avoid the muggle world does _not_ mean they can simply pretend it does not exist!"

Hermione and Malfoy had long ago finished their meal and polite small talk had morphed into a heated debate regarding the classes offered at Hogwarts.

"Of course, we cannot pretend muggles don't exist," Malfoy replied, "But the course is complete rubbish!"

"How can you say that!?"

"There's no practical application! And half of the information is outdated or just plain wrong!"

Hermione hesitated. He had a point. That was one of the things she liked about Malfoy, she found. Although he constantly disagreed with her, he _always_ had a valid point on which to form his argument. It was both infuriating and something Hermione could appreciate, much like the wizard himself.

"I simply believe if they are going to teach a subject such as that, the Ministry needs to develop a more relevant and accurate course. Otherwise, they may as well strike it from the curriculum entirely."

Malfoy stood and made his way over to a small cart, taking a bottle from the counter, he poured the amber liquid into two glasses.

"And they have to employ more qualified staff. Not just for Muggle Studies, but for every class." He returned to the seating area, this time taking the seat beside Hermione and handed her one of the glasses, before taking a sip and continuing.

"Remember Lockhart? He was a complete fraud! You can't tell me he was a wise choice for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Hermione giggled as she took a sip from her own glass and almost choked on the drink. "No, definitely not."

She looked up over the rim of her glass and saw he was watching her again. He had done that a lot over the course of the past few hours, and each time it triggered a tight heat in the pit of her stomach.

"Why do you keep doing that?" She asked without thinking.

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me. In that way?"

His eyes darkened, and he set his glass down on the table in front of them. "And in what _way_ do I look at you?" Hermione felt her face redden.

"I have no idea," she laughed humorlessly. It felt as if someone was sucking all of the air out of the room.

Malfoy reached a hand forward, took her glass and placed it next to his on the table. The mood between them had shifted to one more serious, and Hermione thought this as good a time as any to broach the topic. Before whoever it was succeeded in removing all the air and she passed out.

"What are we doing?" His smirk was back.

"Last I was informed, we were on a date."

She rolled her eyes at his obvious answer. Typical.

"Yes. I do know that bit. What I mean is, what have we been doing. Before this date. This...whatever...it is between us. I mean, What _is_ it?"

Malfoy's jaw tightened, and she instantly regretted asking the question.

"I believe it is customary to wait until sometime after the _first_ date to begin defining the relationship."

She sighed.

"Yes. But it's not as if we haven't had...intimate encounters before now, Malfoy." Her face was beer red, she was sure of it. Her face was hot and she had to stop from fanning herself.

"I suppose you are right." He reached his hand out, his fingers skimming the side of her face before brushing a stray curl to away and tucking it behind her ear.

"What do you want? From me?" Her voice was faint and airy, and she found herself leaning her head into his hand.

He moved toward her, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt her body relax at the feel of his lips on hers. He pulled away, turning her chin up and forcing her eyes to meet his. Then, with a single whispered word, he took her breath away.

"Everything."

Hermione lept across the sofa, her hands wrapping around Malfoy's neck as she attacked his mouth. With that single word, something within her snapped.

Malfoy instantly deepened the kiss, and she moaned into his mouth. She dug her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging it and he emitted a guttural growl. She wanted more, but Malfoy was restraining himself, she could tell. Why?

He slowed the kiss, then began trailing his lips away from hers; across her jaw and down to her neck. He peppered kisses along the way, purring words between them.

"I want everything." She shuttered. "I want your mind." He began sucking that favorite spot on her collar, triggering a wave of arousal throughout Hermione's entire body.

"What else?" she gasped out. His hand was on her knee, and he moved it firmly up across her thigh until it came to rest on her hip He used that hand to pull the lower part of her body firmly against him.

"I want your body." She pressed herself against him, as close as she could from her spot beside him on the sofa, relishing in the feel of his taught chest against her.

"What else?" His hands moved to cup her rear as he leaned up and over her, climbing to his knees. She kissed him again, and he moved her further down the sofa so that she was laying on her back, him hovering above her.

"I want your soul." He pressed himself onto her, not his entire body weight mind you, but with enough pressure so she could feel every hardened plane of his body. His hands roamed her body, igniting a fire under her skin everywhere they touched.

"What else?" He grasped her breasts, massaging them, rolling her nipples into hard peaks before moving one hand to rest between them. He pressed that hand into her chest, his body stilling above him. His breath was ragged, and she looked into his eyes that were now dark with lust.

"Hermione, I-"

The moment was heavy, full of passion and meaning. She felt it in her bones, and by the look on his face, Malfoy felt it as well.

"Yes, Draco?" she whispered, her lips some mere inches away from his own. She wanted so desperately to lean up and kiss him again, but more than that, she needed to hear what he would say next.

"Your heart, Hermione. I want your heart."


	44. Monster or Man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination.

Hermione's entire body tingled. A warmth radiated through her, beginning at Malfoy's hand over her heart. For a moment, all words escaped her as she looked up and into his eyes; two pools of mercury. For the first time he allowed her to see him; All of him. His body hot and firm over hers and his eyes and his soul completely open to her.

This was Draco Malfoy. Unmasked and bearing his heart to her. It was such a monumental moment, significant in so many ways, she had no idea how to respond; didn't know what she could possibly say to express what his words meant to her.

He wanted her. Truly wanted her. Not just her body, but all of her. Somehow, this emotionally constipated Slytherin had found the courage to tell her how he felt, and it was everything that she herself felt for him. And now, here he was, searching her face again. Waiting for her to respond.

For as long as she had questioned her attraction to the blonde wizard, as long as she had analyzed every interaction, every look, every touch, every kind and harsh word, she was still at a loss for a way to explain it.

Her rational mind still wanted to clarify its origins, to define the reason she was now unable to think clearly around him and to understand how they could possibly create a future together when their past was so full of hatred and conflict?

She saw the moment he regretted his admission; the moment he doubted that she felt anything for him. The heat in his eyes began to fade, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he sucked in a sharp breath, as if preparing himself for her rejection.

It wouldn't be easy, building a relationship with Draco Malfoy. It was far from a convenient development, but despite her best efforts, she had formed an attachment to this man, and she wanted to see where it would go.

Her feelings toward him were so very different than they had been with Ron. And maybe that was why she was so intrigued by the prospect. Had she been so unhappy with Ron that she actively sought out a man that was everything he wasn't?

Now fully convinced of her rejection, Malfoy began to withdraw from her, his hand no longer pressing into her chest. He looked away, and Hermione instantly mourned the loss of him. This action brought Hermione out of her reverie, not wanting to lose the feel of him against her or allow him to retreat behind the mask and walls he had only now fully abandoned.

Her right arm shot out, grabbing his wrist and bringing it back to its rightful place over her heart. He froze but did not look back to her. With her left hand, she reached up, caressing his cheek before gently turning his face.

His eyes met hers again, questioningly, desperately. She still didn't have the right words to say, but she needed to tell him _something._ To say _something._ She had been silent too long, not just today, but every day before now. Every day since he first walked into her office.

"Yes." It was barely more than a whisper and came nowhere near expressing the storm of emotions whirling within her. It was only one word, but it was enough.

Malfoy crashed his lips to hers as he wrapped his arms around her body once more. His soft lips moving expertly against her own, causing a new flood of emotion to wash over her. As his tongue slipped between her lips, he lifted her up, his chest never leaving hers, bringing them back to a seated position on the sofa.

His hands moved up her back, and his fingers tangled into her curls, gripping them firmly, yet gently. Overwhelmed, Hermione's eyes welled with tears as she kissed him back fiercely, pouring all her unspoken words into the kiss, hoping beyond all hope that he felt it. Hopeful it would remove all the doubt and regret she had seen in his eyes just moments ago.

Tears fell down her cheeks, the brackishness mixing with the taste of Malfoy on her tongue. Her tears did not go unnoticed, and Malfoy soon broke the kiss, examining her face. He sniffed the air, tilting his head slightly as he took note of her damp eyes. She smiled slightly at the very un-Malfoy-like action.

"What's wrong?" he asked troubled, and her heart swelled.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She replied. He withdrew one hand from her hair, and she winced slightly as her curls fought to keep his fingers in place. Once freed, his hand moved to rest on her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek, wiping the tears away. She blushed, and his eyes darkened instantly. His voice was still full of concern, but those eyes held sheer lust and desire.

"But you are crying. Why?" His hand trailed down to her neck. A single elegant finger hooking into the loop of her scarf. He pulled it, slowly, causing her breath to hitch. His eyes were transfixed on his action, watching as more and more of her flesh was exposed to him.

"I-I don't really know." She didn't know why she was crying. And as she watched Malfoy, his broad shoulders, his flawless face, and the way he bit his lip as her scarf fell to the floor, any and all thoughts regarding said tears were abandoned.

"Are you upset?" his voice had taken on an other-worldly quality, as if it had its own echo, although ever so faint.

"No," she whispered.

"Good." He rested his fingers lightly on her throat before moving them across her collar bone. When they met the fabric of her shirt collar, they hooked inside, pulling it over and off her shoulder. But when he inhaled deeply, she realized what he had uncovered.

Her scar. A thin red line made with a cursed blade in this very house. It would always be with her; a reminder of the war concealed, just out of view. It was one of the reasons her shirts had modest necklines. One of the reasons she normally wore a scarf, even in the warmer months. She was not ashamed of it, but it made people uncomfortable, so she covered it. Even when it was just her and her friends alone at night, she shielded it from view.

But it was always there. She always felt it. She had even shown it to Malfoy once, that night at the pub. But that had only been for a moment; an impulsive decision fueled by Malfoy's infuriating behavior and too much alcohol.

What did he think of it? Did it make him uncomfortable as well? This scar given to her by his own aunt as he and his family looked on without a word?

She opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself when Malfoy lean down and planted the softest of kisses against its edge. Without removing his lips, he tilted his head slightly and looked up to her through his lashes.

Dragging his lips against her flesh, he continued to place light kisses along the length of her scar, never breaking eye contact with her. She was not sure she had ever experienced a more intimate moment in her life.

"I'm sorry."

She released a shuttered breath and the tears began to fall once more. He brought the thin fabric of her shirt back up and over her shoulder, covering her, and it, once more. But his hand rested over it, his eyes looking through her.

Hermione brought her hands to her face, wiping her cheeks roughly to rid them of her fallen tears. As she did, Malfoy stood, and moved behind the sofa. She turned to watch him, his hands in his pockets, head down.

"I am not a _good_ man, Hermione. I never was, and I am not sure that I ever will be. But I AM sorry for what happened to you during the war. For the pain you have endured as a direct result of my actions."

Her heart lept at his sentiment, and she suddenly found the words she needed to say.

"I saw you during the battle. Watched you when we returned to Hogwarts." She shook her head at the memories that flooded her mind. "You have no idea how I watched you. I was sure, so very sure you were up to something. So sure that I could find it out and save the school like I couldn't before. Like I didn't before. But do you know what I realized as I watched you? As I snuck around the castle, following you?"

Hermione looked deep into his eyes and waited. She waited until he gave the slightest of nods.

"You weren't the same boy you were before the war. You weren't a boy at all. Just like I was no longer a girl. We grew up. We didn't want to, but we had to. It was war, and war changes everyone." Her voice softened as she left the sofa to stand in front of him.

"But the boy you once were is not the man I see in front of me now. I would never have asked _that_ boy on a date." Like a magnet, she found herself drawn to him, only barely able to stop herself from crashing into his chest once more.

"You Gryffindors and your bleeding hearts." Sighing as he spoke. "You more than the rest." His face was tight, and while he was still devoid his mask, there was a coldness and distance in his eyes that broke Hermione's heart.

"You should know, Granger, that despite my condition, I'm no lost puppy scratching at your door. I am a predator. I am dangerous. Even more so than before. My regret over my Father's foolish choices, and my own decision to follow in his ignorant footsteps does not change that, does not make me less of a threat. Especially to you."

He ran a hand through is messy blonde hair and Hermione's mind began to race. What had caused him to suddenly speak in such a way. Mere minutes ago, he had confessed his feelings for her. He told her he wanted her, all of her, and now he was telling her he was dangerous.

"Who do you think you are talking to here, Malfoy? For the record, if the Brightest Witch of her Age tells you that you are not dangerous, you better believe that is fact." Malfoy rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, no doubt to retort with some snarky comment, but this time it was Hermione who silenced him.

"No, you talked. Now, it is time for you to listen. I have known you since first year. I have seen what you are capable of. I have witnessed it and suffered from it first hand for years. But, I also know what you could never bring yourself to do. I watched you change and suffer 6th year. Saw you never _quite_ able to complete your task. Despite all your flaws, you have always been a skilled wizard. You did not fail because you _could not_ do it. You failed because you _would not_ do it." She watched as Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously, but she ignored it, knowing he would not hurt her.

"You are a WIZARD. And I am a WITCH. And I am perfectly capable of deciding whether you are hazardous to me. I am under no illusions as to the type of man you are. I have no intention of treating you as one of my, what did you call them, _charity cases?_ But I've told you before, you befriend Gryffindors, we WILL help you when you need it. And Merlin, do you need help."

Malfoy's cheeks were painted red, his hands clenched in tight fists. "I don't need your _help._ "

"Yes, you do!" she shouted at him as she stepped closer. "Don't you realize what you've just done?!" His eyebrows furrowed, confused. "You can't DO this. It isn't fair. You are so terrified of being yourself that you come off completely mad! Not five minutes ago you were you. The _real_ you. Showed yourself to me, told me what you wanted. I'm meant to be the brave one and I couldn't even do that! But you did. Then, you got into your head and started trying to push me away again. You don't get to do that, Malfoy!"

One more step forward and she was directly in front of him. She reached out and poked him in the chest.

"You're hiding something! And I would venture a guess that you're actually hiding many somethings. I'm not saying that you don't deserve privacy. That you shouldn't be able to keep a few secrets here and there. And I realize that it was wrong of me to try to expose them the way I did today, but you need to stop using them as a tool to shield yourself from those people who care about you."

He stiffened at her words, but allowed her to continue.

"I'm not asking for all of your secrets. I would be happy with just the one. What happened on your birthday?"

She watched as his features shifted, from the sharp lines of irritation to the smooth façade of indifference, closing himself off from her.

"It's not fair!" Another poke. "I won't let you run away and hide behind that bloody mask. Not again." She grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him to her, kissing him with all the fury she felt before pushing him away abruptly and slapping him.

"Bloody hell witch!" Malfoy shouted as he reached up to rub his cheek. "You're calling ME mad!? You're bloody insane!"

"Well," she huffed, "It takes one to know one!"

It was a childish thing to say, and they both knew it. Hermione couldn't help it, and she began to laugh. As she did, she looked up to Malfoy, and watched as he fought to hold back a smile. Instead, a smirk formed on his face, his eyes softened.

"Such articulate words from the _Brightest Witch of our Age._ "

Despite the twinge of levity in his voice, he began pacing, like a wild animal, searching for an escape.

"I can't give you what you want. Not that secret. Not yet. I have been a cruel creature all of my life." He scoffed, an odd humorless sound as his lip curled. "Only fitting that I have now, truly, become the creature…monster that I am now. The flesh finally matches the man."

His words were so cold, so harsh and demeaning of himself that Hermione reached out, to reassure or comfort him, but he held up a hand, blocking her gesture.

"You are no monster, Malfoy." He stopped mid stride and turned to face her.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, Granger." She stood, hands on her hips, frustration rising within her. No one told Hermione Granger she didn't know something.

Obviously, Malfoy would not listen to reason. That was no real surprise to her. She knew him well enough to recognize she would not win this discussion. Not here. Not now. But she _would_ win.

"I am rarely wrong." She crossed her arms stubbornly, brow furrowed, and she watched as something shifted within Malfoy.

"You really are mental, you know?" One of those perfect eyebrows arched in response as he leaned against the nearby wall. Crossing both his arms, a predatorial grin spread across his face, as if he knew something she didn't. The same expression of smugness he wore during Hogwarts when Snape would dock her house points, or the rarer instances when she would get an answer wrong.

Doing her best to adopt a similarly smug confidence in her stance, she taunted him. "Scared, Malfoy?"

He didn't answer, simply standing there against the wall, grinning at her. It was the same way he had been standing that day in Diagon Alley, watching as her friends drug her away from Corningwood.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Why do you look so pleased with yourself?"

"Who? Me?" he asked innocently as his voice raised an octave. He pushed off the wall and was inches away from her faster than she could draw in a breath. "I was picturing the shade of red I'll get to see on the Weasel's face when I tell him I'm dating the famous Hermione Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, at Malfoy's casual mention of the two of them dating, and also in outrage that he would use it as a way to taunt her friend, but before she could voice any of it, his lips were on hers. Her anger dissipated, and as he pulled away, she couldn't help visualizing it.

"I think he may create a new shade. Perhaps we should name it after him?" She asked.

"Only fitting. Weasel Red?"

"No," she said with a grin. "Won-Won-Wed," and she dissipated into a fit of giggles, bending over at the waist at her own joke as the blonde looked at her, a confused smile on his face.

But Hermione was already thinking of things other than Ron. If Malfoy refused to listen to her, she would make him _see_ it.

Hermione would show him he was no monster.


	45. Famished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but an overactive imagination

And so it began, Malfoy keeping her at an emotional distance, restrained, while Hermione tried to show him it was unnecessary. They made no attempts to define their new relationship. But after that night, there was a shift.

It was never discussed. Never arranged. But, first thing Monday morning, there Malfoy was, knocking on Hermione's office door at 1:00 PM with take away.

After shutting the door tightly behind him, he practically ripped the quill from her hand, forcing her to set her work aside for a full hour while they ate. If Hermione hadn't had so much paperwork to complete, she would have found it sweet. She supposed he merely wanted to return the gesture she had offered Saturday. That was until she found him at her door at precisely 1:00 PM on Tuesday. And Wednesday.

By the time Thursday rolled around, Hermione had already rearranged her entire work schedule to accommodate her new standing lunch date. She had to admit, she felt less stressed and overwhelmed after her lunches with Malfoy. Maybe it was the food. Maybe it was him.

As Malfoy became a regular visitor to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures the following week, heads turned, but he did his best to ignore them.

He was always a perfect gentleman, laying out that day's extravagant meal and letting her choose her plate first. He would smile, chewing politely as she rambled on and on about work and her coworkers, her face flush with irritation when one of them had dared question her latest project.

Once she had her fill, Malfoy would sit, engaging her in conversation until precisely 2:00 PM, when he would clean the debris from her desk and take his leave with nothing more than a tender kiss.

It appeared he intended to take things slow. Hermione liked that. But she couldn't help the nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her he was attempting to hide their relationship; That he wanted to postpone the inevitable fallout that would occur when the public found out they were together.

Ginny and Harry knew, of course, but to the rest of the world, it merely appeared the Gryffindor had taken the Slytherin into the fold. It wasn't a stretch. It was well known that Draco Malfoy often attended meetings with Harry Potter. And almost the entire wizarding world had been invited to the S.P.E.W. gala at Malfoy Manor.

Hermione understood his hesitation; knew enough to understand it wasn't that he was ashamed of her. He was ashamed of himself, trying to protect her from ridicule and censure. Trying to give her an easy out should she change her mind about him. But Hermione was her own woman. She didn't need his protection. And she wanted to show that to him.

The following week, she invited Harry to join them. Harry had been late, as usual, and barged in famished, leaving her door open before flopping down unceremoniously in the chair next to Malfoy.

She could tell Malfoy felt uneasy. For the first time, everyone walking by _knew_ who was visiting the bushy brunette and what they were doing. He said nothing, however, the unlikely trio received a plethora of odd looks as they ate in Hermione's office. She could see his mind working, each time the murmurs echoed through the room. If she could hear them, she was sure Malfoy could make out every word being said.

After the first day, Harry began insisting that they eat in his office, as it was twice the size of Hermione's. And every time, after showing them in, Harry left the door wide open. Unashamed.

This exposed their lunches to significantly more prying eyes. There were five times more employees on Harry's floor, and people were constantly popping in and out of his door throughout the day. Hermione watched Malfoy carefully, every time an onlooker's eyes grew wide with shock…or fear…upon realizing who was in Harry Potter's office.

She watched the anger rise, but remain just under the surface; a silent storm brewing behind the mask. There were whispers everywhere they went, but no one confronted them. No one dared question the boy who lived and the Gryffindor princess' newfound friendship. Even Ron kept his opinions to himself when he stumbled across the trio...for the most part. But Hermione could tell the ever-increasing glances and disapproving looks bothered the blonde.

Whenever they were in public view, Malfoy was mindful to keep an appropriate distance from her, but he always watched her, knew where she was and what she was doing. He was different whenever they were alone. He was warmer, and funnier, cracking jokes at Harry's expense and talking animatedly with her about his mother and her latest round of renovations at the Manor.

Later in the end of the week, Harry suggested they attend a Quidditch match, and while it held no appeal to Hermione, she saw the spark of excitement in Malfoy's eyes at the suggestion and could not bring herself to decline.

That evening both she and Harry received an owl from Malfoy, letting them know a private box was reserved for the Chudley Cannons game that weekend, and telling Harry to invite whoever he liked. Ginny nearly burst with excitement at the news.

Ron was suspicious of the invitation at first. Despite his friends' acceptance of Malfoy, Ron was hard-pressed to forgive and forget their past. But with a little convincing from Lavender, he reluctantly agreed to go and to give the 'ferret' a chance to redeem himself.

* * *

 

Hermione was sad to see only Malfoy as they stepped into the lavish box. Had he invited no one? She had hoped he would.

The Gryffindors were too enthralled to take note, but she saw the way he watched her friends. The way he cocked his head at their overt displays of comradery and affection as they cheered their team to victory. It was as if he was studying the behaviors of a rarely seen creature in the wild; as if he didn't quite understand.

Hermione had every intention of watching the game, although she found the sport both terrifying and barbaric. However, she found watching her companions much more interesting. While Malfoy studied the Gryffindors, she studied him.

Malfoy remained reserved at her side. But the more she watched him, the more she began to notice his tells. The way his shoulders lowered and the muscles in his arms tightened ever so slightly when the rival team scored. Or the way his chin lifted as his body attempted to rise up a minuscule amount when the Cannons stole the quaffle.

She wondered if he was always like this at matches, or if he was restraining himself due to his current company. She couldn't recall how he had behaved during matches during school. If he were here with his friends, would he cheer? Would he yell? Would he be wearing a giant fuzzy hat?

Every so often he would look at her, a small smirk on his face when he saw her watching him intently. And every time, she fought the urge to leap on him.

While she did like that they were taking this slow, she missed his touch; the way his hands felt on her body and the feel of his kiss on her skin. As if reading her thoughts, his hand reached out, long fingers interlacing between her own. She felt her face flush as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and she looked down and away to hide her blush.

They stayed that way, hand in hand, much calmer and quieter than her friends. Every once in a while he would lean over, educating her on the players or moves. Anything he thought she might find educational and remotely interesting. It was a stark contrast to the Gryffindors, who could only shout 'DID YOU SEE THAT' without any other pertinent information during matches.

Malfoy never engaged the others in conversations, speaking only to her friends when spoken to, and sadly, that was not frequent. Harry tried a few times to draw Malfoy into their conversation, but naturally, he was much more focused on the match itself.

It wasn't until they were all celebrating the Cannon's victory that someone finally approached him. Lavender. She walked up slowly, standing directly in front of the tall wizard, her head tilted up thoughtfully.

"Thank you for inviting us all, Malfoy. It was very generous of you." Hermione watched intently as Malfoy sized her up, his face void of any emotion. "I've never been to one of these private boxes before." He didn't respond, but he didn't make a slight on her either. Lavender did not back away, keeping her eyes locked on his before involuntarily sniffing the air around them.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, and she began searching the room behind them. "What is that horrid smell!?"

Malfoy's face instantly softened as a knowing glint shown in his eyes.

Lavender was moving about the box now, inhaling the air purposefully looking for the source of the odor. Hermione looked around confused, completely unaware of what she was talking about. She didn't smell anything odd.

Finally, Malfoy began to laugh, a deep melodious sound that drew the attention of the rest of the room. Cautiously, their friends joined them, looking on questioningly before Ron spoke.

"What's so funny, Malfoy?"

The blonde wizard composed himself before nodding his head to the disgusted look on Lavender's face.

"Brown here just caught a whiff of our neighbors."

"Our neighbors?" Lavender asked.

"Yes. Zabini regularly reserves the box next to this one. He likes to...entertain young witches here."

Malfoy breathed in deeply. "I believe his _guest_ wouldn't know a quality perfume if it bit her on the arse. His nose scrunched, and he shook his head roughly as if trying to rid his nose of the stench. "Or the value of moderation when applying it."

Lavender and Ginny broke out into a fit of laughter at his words, Ginny even reaching out to place a hand on Malfoy's arm as she bent over at the waist from her amusement. Harry and Hermione looked on with polite smiles as the blonde wizard joined in their mirth. Ron simply looked confounded.

"You've bloody lost it," he said, right before his stomach rumbled, causing everyone but him to burst into another bout of hilarity.

Ron smiled, slightly embarrassed. "Come on _Won-Won,"_ Lavender said as she walked over and draped her arms around the red-faced wizard. "We better get you fed before you have a fit."

Hermione watched as Malfoy's eyes lit up with recognition at the redhead's pet name. His eyes shot over to her and a sly grin crept over his face.

"Yes, _Won-Won,_ had I known you were unable to feed yourself, I would have happily supplied you with a decent meal as well. Downright absurd that the Ministry can't pay its Aurors a decent wage."

Ron's face grew red at the slight and narrowed his eyes at the wizard, but before he could speak, Malfoy wrapped his arms around Hermione and planted a heated kiss on her lips.

"I'm _famished_ as well, love." His voice was low and sultry as he looked into her eyes. This was new, this sudden show of public affection.

"You ate just before the game," Hermione countered, confused, but not opposed at all to her current position.

"It's not _food_ I'm craving at the moment." Hermione blushed scarlet and didn't dare look to her friends. He hadn't spoken to her in such a way in weeks. Ever since their 'first date.' _Never_ had he vocalized his attraction in front of others.

"Let's get you home so I can satisfy my _craving."_ Her heart raced at his words, a familiar tingling sensation running through her body. Malfoy grabbed her hand and hastily drug her toward the exit, shouting over his shoulder as they went.

"You should stay at Potter's tonight, Red. Your friend is going to be _indisposed_ for the remainder of the evening."

Thoroughly embarrassed, but never one to rudely leave her friends, Hermione tried to turn around to apologize, or say goodbye, or possibly to die from embarrassment. But the way he had her arm outstretched between them as he lead her out the door, she barely had time to turn her head and catch a glance at the state of each of her friends.

Harry was rolling his eyes; mid-sigh at the blonde's behavior.

Lavender looked like the cat who caught the canary. Hermione could only imagine the owls the blonde witch would be sending the MOMENT she arrived home.

Ginny was on the floor laughing and pointing at her brother as she rolled around, kicking her legs out in delight.

And Ron, Ron bore a horrified expression, his face a violent shade of Won-Won-Red.


End file.
